Perhaps
   

Perhaps no one will ever know,
 Or place one breath upon an ode-
  A poet's world of wilting woe,
   Or glimpse a sun when Knighthood rode.
    The heartpound of broken passion spurned-
      Iced shafts of steel, piercing breast.
        Ecstasy awing when lover's eyes are turned..
         A servant humbly placed 'neath sod to rest.
 

Perhaps no one could ever say
 What tempts earth's poets to wilder things.
   Or never discover a week's eighth day,
    Nor capture a forest, hiding as it sings.
     Sprinkles of wanton dew 'pon a grassy moor..
      A rising, reaching, raving mountain peak
       Crying in anguished torment through an open door
        To a wanting world, awaiting it to speak.
 

Perhaps no one could ever feel
 A love-torn wasp's sting of prisoned fire-
  A pride from failure...dispair at gain, yet real.
    The bursting smallness that floods a steeple spire,
      Or the vengeful ripping of a departing promise.
        A love huing the bark of a well faded tree-
         The faith that flames in every doubting Thomas.
           Perhaps...Perhaps.  I and time shall see.

R. Martin Trout
© April 1965
 

Midi Title:Chopin Etude Op. 10 No3 in E