Moonlight in the gloomy night of life.
I can soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
Life would be an error without me.
And I separate the generations.

I express the inexpressible.
The art most nigh to tears and memory.
On which silence is impossible.
I am the shorthand of emotion.

I should strike fire from the heart of man
and a woman I should bring to tears.
Only I can name the unnameable and communicate the unknowable.
The speech of angels.