These words! --they come falling free;
speech: daft here, deft there,
in that old, linking tongue.
We take these precious signs and tones,
play them on our organs grand,
sing them in our voices strong--
yet spoken in our poor, restricted speech,
we find them dulled again.
So hear ye of this simple speech,
and grasp it phrase for phrase;
key words to link the harmony,
re-form the dictum true:
The first, the object--
abstract; a guide without a muse.
By itself lives unrestricted,
but here we find it,
linked and woven in.
The second, the tongue--
morphing; with an effortless building
of an ethereal wind;
here one moment, gone the next,
sent ever on its merry way.
The third, the tongue itself--
waiting on society lost,
but alas!-- we blinked,
and now it is dead.
The fourth, the death of wind--
pushing; with a quiet passing.
The spread that does not stop,
until it breaks on us,
and ends its blink of life.
The fifth, the deep--
revelation; a formative thought.
Passing without trace,
but leaving the hint of discovery.
So bring ye of these keys and tones,
enmesh them! string them well.
Then bring them to their linking tongue,
to build the dictum true.
And it should matter not from here,
if mind be bent or broke;
for spoken in the linking tongue,
lo, even Madmen earn respect.
A hint, should you need it:
Unless you've encountered the phrase already, or are very familiar with language, you may not be able to easily find the full, correct answer without the aid of a search engine. You should be able to get pretty dang close, though, unless I've messed up difficulty.