I Would Rather Have The Pen Poem by John Yaws

"Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing..."
Or words to that effect-
How well I understand that wish
When striving to perfect-
The thoughts which all unbidden come
And I would write them down-
They come so easy to the tongue-
It seems my pen is bound.
I long to paint a picture-
Of lonely desert land-
And it as virginal today
As from Creation's hand.
Or tell the grace and symmetry
Of some great mountain lion-
Who makes a kill and carries back
The bounty to its scion.
Depict the dreaminess of youth-
When all the world is roses-
Ere time and tragedy the truth
Which comes with life, discloses.-
Or paint a tapestry of love-
Faithful and unyielding-
Ever bearing precious fruit-
And from all heartache shielding.
The beauty of the golden rays
Of summer's healing sun.
Nobility of venered age-
Whose race is nearly run.
Ah, for a thousand tongues- but nay
I'd rather have the pen-
Which reads the mind, and delves the heart
And write's what lies within.