Poems (E. L. F.)/The language of silence
THE LANGUAGE OF SILENCE.
There's a silence that speaks in the deeply dark eye;'Tis a soul-breathing eloquence lent from on high,To picture those feelings, to language forbid,As it droopingly bends 'neath the shadowy lid.
There's a silence that speaks in the mute falling tear;Ah! it breathes deeper anguish, more sorrow sincere,Than the voice of affliction, in love's deepest wail,Did ever pour forth, the soft heart to assail.
There's a silence that speaks in the deep heart-felt sigh;Ah! it echoes a mute half-concealed agony;And the darkening shadows that flit o'er the brow,Betoken the sunset of happiness now.
There's a silence that speaks in the varying smile:Who hath not felt how the endearment, the wile, That those vivid circles that o'er the lip playWith the light flash of lightning, our feelings portray!
There's a silence that speaks in the low hectic tinge,And the brilliancy sparkling beneath the dark fringe;And the throbs heard to beat in that fast-fading form,Tell a far sadder tale than the lip could have borne.