Without a Word
And even the silence of earth's breast
Tells it in language still and fine;
And grown too full to be supprest,
Reaches these flowers up for a sign.
O, for some perfect sign to tell
What words too rudely might declare!
Some voice of air,
Soft as the whisper of the shell!
Tells it in language still and fine;
And grown too full to be supprest,
Reaches these flowers up for a sign.
O, for some perfect sign to tell
What words too rudely might declare!
Some voice of air,
Soft as the whisper of the shell!
Yet the dumb heart can tell thee more:
It speaks to thee with every beat;
And what it urges o'er and o'er,
Words were less daring to entreat.
Yes, when that speaks, is all avowed;
All that I bade my lips conceal,
That will reveal
Without a word, and speak it loud!
It speaks to thee with every beat;
And what it urges o'er and o'er,
Words were less daring to entreat.
Yes, when that speaks, is all avowed;
All that I bade my lips conceal,
That will reveal
Without a word, and speak it loud!
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