If I Could Make A Song

by Lizette Woodworth Reese

If I could make a song,
Dripping with my heart's pain,
As drips a bough down a thin road,
After a cutting rain —

So sad a song, so hushed a song,
So shaken from foot to head —
I would sing it, that am dumb,
To you, that are dead.

Last updated February 14, 2024