The Poem All Told

Tell I’m glowin’ down low

tell I’m arrivin’ up trite

Tell I’m tempting the fact

tell vanity too little charms

Tell string the Achaean tuning

tell luster glistens with gold

Tell I’ll know too late

tell too soon can’t remember

Tell anybody to tell?

tell by a bleak stricken stall

Tell is nothing to tell

tell something; Speak tonight,

Tell the pleasant tells softly telling

tell the woven and the loosed

Tell the dead to tell the fold

tell the sermon tell the Mount

Tell the poem all told