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Is it his words or vaulting ambition
That wrings such tears out from my sober eyes?
To read can raise me up from perdition?
Or must I speak the speech and dramatise?
These words of pure sweet honey have been penned
By author sharp as spur with sharper quill.
A dulcet written verse is a godsend.
Their taste when read aloud is sweeter still.
I lift my heart to heaven from the stage
To play the roles and speak the poetry.
These characters germane in every age.
Like saying prayers on the rosary.
But if I have no stage and cannot play,
The words I’ll read for ever and a day.