Poems (Greenwell)/Silence
For works with similar titles, see Silence.
SILENCE.
I turn unto the PastWhen I have need of comfort; I am vowed To dear remembrance: most like some proud,Poor Noble, who, on evil fortunes cast, Has saved his pictures from the wreck, I muse Mid these that I have gathered, till I lose The drearness of the Present! The drearness of the Present!On the hill That noon in summer found us; far below We heard the river in a slumbrous flow Chide o'er its pebbles, slow and yet more slow; Beneath our feet the very grasses slept, Signed by the sliding sunbeam as it crept From blade to blade, slow-stealing with a still Admonitory gesture; now a thrill Ran lightly through the wood, but ere to sound The shiver grew upon the hush profound, It died encalmed; methought a Spirit's sigh Had then been audible, but none came by To trouble us, and we were silent, fed With golden musings by our friend that read From out thy chosen Poet; in a hall Of mute expectancy we stood, where all That listened with us held their breath unstirred: When suddenly the reader's voice let fall Its flow of music; sweet as was the song He paused in, conquered by a spell more strong, We asked him not its cadence to recall. It seemed as if a Thought of God did fill His World, that drawn unto the Father's breast,Lay hush'd with all its children. This was Rest,And this the soul's true Sabbath, deep and still. Then marvelled I no longer that a space Is found in Heaven for Silence; so to me That hour made known its true sufficiency, Revealed not oft below, because its place Is with the Blessed! Speech is but a part Of Life's deep poverty, whereof the heart Is conscious, striving in its vague unrest To fill its void; but when the measure pressed And running over to its clasp is given,It seeketh nothing more, and Earth is blest With Silence—even such as is in Heaven!