SING, hills, from your deepest foundations, A song to the answering sea; Pour sky, all your rarest libations On shrines of humanity.
Sweet blood in the veins of the forest, Wild throat of the sunset-plumed bird, Flood out where the need is the sorest The light of your unuttered word:
Grey rocks on the brow of the mountain, Green germ on the face of the stream, Hushed voice of the underground fountain, Speak out and interpret your dream:
Speak out all inaudible voices, Withhold not the music that breaks On shores where the silence rejoices When Time its mute melody wakes.
We hark for the infinite sweetness Of echoes from beautiful feet That bathed in the dews of completeness Ere man woke the morning to greet.
We wait for the marvelous story That sleeps in the breast of the air; We long for a glimpse of the glory That hides in the great Everywhere.
O Silence! Great Silence! Deliver The trust thou hast guarded so long; The secret we sigh to discover Is keyed to the chords of thy song.
