I know the stars and the stately moon
And the wind that runs with rippling shoon–
But why does it always bring to me
The far-off, beautiful sound of the sea?
The marsh-grass weaves me a wall of green,
But the wind comes whispering in between,
In the dead of night when the sky is deep
The wind comes waking me out of sleep–
Why does it always bring to me
The far-off, terrible call of the sea?
My soul is a broken fieldPloughed by pain.Where grass and bending flowersWere growing,The field lies broken nowFor another sowing.Great Sower when you treadMy field again,Scatter the furrows thereWith better grain.
You were young then, proud and fresh-hearted,You were too young to know.Fate is a wind, and red leaves fly before itFar apart, far away in the gusty time of year—Seldom we meet now, but when I hear you speaking,I know your secret, my dear, my dear.Submitted by Venus
Of the least breath of love or hate,And not disconsolateAt the sick load of sorrow laid on men;If I could keep a sanctuary thereFree even of prayer,If I could do this, then,With quiet candor as I grew more wiseI could look even at God with grave forgiving eyes.
In forests far and silentWhere Quiet plays alone.Her thoughts are like the lotusAbloom by sacred streamsBeneath the temple archesWhere Quiet sits and dreams.Her kisses are the rosesThat glow while dusk is deepIn Persian garden closesWhere Quiet falls asleep.
To share myself with every comerOr shape my thoughts into words with my tongue.It is one to me that they come or goIf I have myself and the drive of my will,And strength to climb on a summer nightAnd watch the stars swarm over the hill.Let them think I love them more than I do,Let…
It answered me with silence,Silence above.I asked the darkened seaDown where the fishermen go–It answered me with silence,Silence below.Oh, I could give him weeping,Or I could give him song–But how can I give silenceMy whole life long?
