Rainbows (Custance)/The Silence of Love
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
The Silence of Love
The poise of your small head, how proud it seems;
How sad your great dark eyes; and your mouth's bow
Has such a petulant disdainful pout,
As though it wearied of the ebb and flow
Of life within the soul where shapes of dreams
In endless long processions come and go,
And all the tumult of the world without.
Slowly about us the grave dusk is shed,
Behind us as we stand the frost-stung fire
Flames up and fills the room with dancing light,
Speech is not, but in silence I aspire
To praise you in a song unsung, unsaid,
A dream song faint with sorrow and desire
Of music made, and memory, and delight.
How sad your great dark eyes; and your mouth's bow
Has such a petulant disdainful pout,
As though it wearied of the ebb and flow
Of life within the soul where shapes of dreams
In endless long processions come and go,
And all the tumult of the world without.
Slowly about us the grave dusk is shed,
Behind us as we stand the frost-stung fire
Flames up and fills the room with dancing light,
Speech is not, but in silence I aspire
To praise you in a song unsung, unsaid,
A dream song faint with sorrow and desire
Of music made, and memory, and delight.