the poem itself

[fledgist]

words should taste sweet upon the tongue
there's magic as they fall upon the ear
when sense has from the sound been wrung

the power does not reside within the lung
nor does it end when one is on the bier
words should taste sweet upon the tongue

the world's a better place for being sung
the furthest places are made to come near
when sense has from the sound been wrung

the bell's the better once it has been rung
the world once spoken will become more dear
words should taste sweet upon the tongue

the bag of winds has been tied up and slung
back in the cave together with the seer
when sense has from the sound been wrung

upon the tree the wise one long has hung
he'd rather go and laugh into his beer
words should taste sweet upon the tongue
when sense has from the sound been wrung