WE are writing, writing ever,
Writing what will last forever;
Deep engraving on the heart,
Words and lines with magic art—
Touching on a tablet grand,
With a sure, unerring hand,
When we go, and when we come,
When away and when at home,
Writing on the souls we meet,
As they pass with busy feet—
Writing what both they and we,
Do not think and cannot see. ‘Tis ourselves we ever write,
In letters which are dark or bright,—
By the thought, the tone, the look,
Down the pages of a book,
That shall last beyond the sun,
And be read when life is done.
Write we one, write we all,
In this book, or great or small,
Viewless word, and viewless line,
Write ourselves whate’er we be,
Souls to bind or souls to free. Be ourselves then always right—
To be drawn the lines of light—
Else by tone, or thought, or look,
Darkened lines bedim that book—
For write we must, write we ever,
Write we what shall last forever.