Here in the silence cometh unto me A song that is not mine,
With wash of waves along the cold shore line,
And sob of wind, and rain upon the sea.
It is the song and message of the dead! Around my soul to-nightI feel the kinship of the Infinite,
I hear the sound of voices that are fled.
And as beneath the viewless angel’s wing Bethesda’s pool was stirred,
My heart is troubled by the mystic
Of one who through my soul and lips would sing.
There is no note of wailing in the strain, But resonant and deep,
Out of the vastness, doth the music sweep,
Into the silence dieth it again.
To breaking hearts it saith, “Be comforted. With secret pain and
And night-long penance thro’ the torturing
Vex not the spirits of the mighty dead.” “Weep not thine error done, thy thought untold Shall not their vision
Subtler than ours, more delicate to
All that the fulness of the heart can hold?” “Make not by grief an evil of their good! Where the Immortal
Life’s hidden secrets are an open book,
All thou hast felt is known and understood.” Out of the silence thro’ my soul to thine, From realms unknown,
A breath of tenderness from far lips
Floats, with the promise of a Peace Divine.
And soaring thro’ the shadows where we grope A mighty cadence rings,
A spirit moves with morning on its wings—The Voice and Vision of Eternal Hope!
