Dearest this one day we own

ST, this one day we own,    Stolen from the crowd and press,    Let it be sweet silence's.

We two, heart in heart, alone;

Any speech were less.

We are weary, even thus,    Talk might turn to discontent    Else be practised merriment:

Earth and sky will speak for

Nearer as we meant.

We two in the stillness, dear,    Fair dreams come without our quest;    Not to talk of life is best.

Ah, our holiday is here,

Let it all be rest.