THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 ENDOWED BY THE 
 DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC 
 SOCIETIES 
 
 PS 1769 
 .H7 
 
 1877 
 
00008654529 
 
 This book is due at the WALTER R. DAVIS LIBRARY on 
 the last date stamped under "Date Due." If not on hold it 
 may be renewed by bringing it to the library. 
 
 DATE RET 
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*■ 
 
 UNCI 
 
far? 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 BY 
 
 S. MILLER HAGEMAN, 
 
 Princeton, N. J, 
 
 TENTH EDITION. 
 
 BROOKLYN, L. I : 
 PUBLISHED BY D. S. HOLMES, 
 89 FOURTH ST. 
 
COFVTIGHT, 
 l8 7 6, 
 
 By Dodd, Mead & Company. 
 
TO 
 
 THE MEMORY 
 
 OF 
 
 MY MOTHER. 
 
WHAT THE GREAT POETS AND AUTHORS OF THE WORLD 
 SAY OF " SILENCE." 
 
 " Full of fine imagination." 
 
 Henry W. Longfellow. 
 <: Silence is a beautiful poem. It has many passages noteworthy for 
 thought and expression, which have stamped themselves on my memory 
 at first reading." 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 " The poem on Silence has impressed me by its fertility of fancy and 
 affluence of illustration. Its author has brought to it a fine poetic enthu- 
 siasm which is felt in every stanza, and which in other hands would have 
 yielded but meager results " 
 
 W. Cullen Bryant. 
 
 " Silence has afforded me great pleasure in reading it." 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
 " I have read the poem more than once, with interest and admiration. 
 I congratulate the author on the beauty of his work." 
 
 Jean Ingelow. 
 
 "I have read Silence with very great pleasure, and am much struck 
 by the beauty of many of them." 
 
 The Duke of Argyll. 
 
 ''Your book of poems demands my most distinguished considera- 
 tion.'' 
 
 Alphonzo XII, King of Spain. 
 " I have had great pleasure in reading it." 
 
 Dom Pedro. 
 
 "Her Majesty the Queen has been graciously pleased to accept the 
 poem, entitled Silence, and commands that her thanks be sent to the au- 
 thor." 
 
 Queen Victoria, (through her Secretary.) 
 " Silence is a poem of great poetical beauty." 
 
 James McCosh. 
 Pres. of Princeton College. 
 
 Letters from Charles Spurgeon, Disraeli, Lord Derby, Gladstone, and 
 almost all the noted foreign authors, as well as American, have been re- 
 ceived, speaking most highly of this beautiful poem, besides the most 
 flattering reviews from all the American and foreign papers. 
 
PROEM. 
 
 THE FORTY-SIXTH PSALM. A TRUE TRANSLATION. 
 
 GOD is our refuge and strength ; 
 Found thoroughly a help in troubles. 
 Therefore will not we fear though the 
 
 earth should change, 
 And the mountains rock like the midst of 
 
 the seas. 
 Let its floods moan and boil ; 
 Let the mountains toss as its crest. 
 It shall be a river the streams whereot 
 
 shall glad the city of God : 
 
6 PROEM, 
 
 It shall be the holiest of the dwellings of 
 
 the Most High. 
 God is in the midst of her. She shall not 
 
 be rocked in waves. 
 God shall help her at the turning of the 
 
 morning. 
 
 The nations moan. The kingdoms rock. 
 He utters his voice. The earth melts. 
 Be still ; and know that I am God ! 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 Slowly climb the moon-touched moun- 
 tains up their stairway to the sky, 
 
 Slowly each white cloud ascending, seems 
 a soul, that passed on high : 
 
 Summit billowing after summit higher and 
 still higher grow, 
 
 Till they break in awful Silence on a glit- 
 tering strand of snow. 
 
8 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 TT 
 
 Silent cataract of summits, stiffened on 
 thy frozen verge, 
 
 Leaping in tumultuous silence to thy 
 adamantine surge : 
 
 Motionless, yet grandly moving, seems thy 
 avalanche of stone. 
 
 Silence ! Be thou everlasting, on thy soli- 
 tary throne. 
 
SILENCE, 
 
 9 
 
 III. 
 
 At thy base, the swirling river chatters 
 idly to the clod, 
 
 At thy brow, thy head is lifted through 
 the cloud to talk with God : 
 
 Prophet-like, with mantle folded round thy 
 dread and spectral form, 
 
 Far below thee screams the eagle, far be- 
 low thee raves the storm. 
 
10 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Often in my early fancy had I roved in 
 
 search of rest, 
 As the southern bird at springtime, seeks 
 
 afar its northern nest ; 
 Often in my elder yearning had I dreamed 
 
 within me deep, 
 Of that high repose that evei lies upon 
 
 the soul like sleep. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 II 
 
 Of a sweet and tender silence, that should 
 
 soothe each aching sound, 
 As the snow within the church-yard 
 
 marbles every aching mound : 
 Where the soul should find its footing in 
 
 the spiritual rock, 
 Like a lord within a castle, built above 
 
 the billow's shock. 
 
12 
 
 SILENCE, 
 
 VI. 
 
 Not in vain yon towering mountains, that 
 
 I marked your silver spires; 
 Not in vain yon reddening heavens, fretted 
 
 with your cresset-fires : 
 Torch of Nature, thou hast led me from 
 
 thy summit far and free, 
 To a height within my spirit that is 
 
 grander far than thee. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 13 
 
 VII. 
 
 Far above earths transient echoes, far 
 
 above earth's broken sound, 
 Domes the overarching distance of the 
 
 blue receding round : 
 Softly as the world grows louder, softly 
 
 o'er the rising din, 
 Hear the great white Silence open like a 
 
 lily on the lin. 
 
!4 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Greatness lies insphered in silence, littleness 
 
 to sound is stirred, 
 All the grandest things in Nature never 
 
 have been seen or heard : 
 Proving down by printless logic all the 
 
 science of the school, 
 Silence is the law of being, Sound, the 
 
 breaking of the rule. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Wind was flourishing its trumpets, but 
 
 th' embattled air is still, 
 Streams were roaring down the gorges, 
 
 they have thridded to a rill; 
 Thunder rumbled on the heaven, but its 
 
 chariots have sped, 
 Man was talking to his fellow, but the 
 
 man grew dumb — and dead. 
 
6 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 X. 
 
 Every sound shall end in silence, but the 
 
 silence never dies, 
 From the roar of swarming cities, from 
 
 the vague of peopled skies; 
 From the wind and from the forest, from 
 
 the cliff and from the sea, 
 Like a child unto its mother, all thy 
 
 sounds come back to thee. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 XL 
 
 So, like her who bade us open eyes she 
 
 yet may fix in death, 
 Thou hast brought us into being, thou 
 
 shalt take away our breath ; 
 Thou art Alpha and Omega, for a world 
 
 is in thy womb, 
 Thou art Alpha and Omega, for a world 
 
 is in thy tomb. 
 
i8 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Far into the Past I wandered, paused 
 
 within its mellow clime, 
 Where the Lethean years were crossing 
 
 at the Jabbok-ford of Time; 
 Felt the boundaries of being sink around 
 
 me into space, 
 Listened, but could hear no echo, looked, 
 
 but saw nor form nor face. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 19 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Shadows of the ashen ages, ere this wreck- 
 ing ark of earth 
 Sailed upon the soundless ether, round the 
 
 great sun's beaconing hearth; 
 When the circumfluent Silence washed th 
 
 cold sphere with its wave, 
 When man lived within his Maker, 
 Christ lived within the grave. 
 
 e 
 
 as 
 
20 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Noiselessly, the round Creation slowly rose 
 
 into its place, 
 Like the moon at night, ascending on the 
 
 star-sloped stairs of space: 
 To its walls there came no workman, to 
 
 its towers no touch of hand, 
 Without sound, like some great palm-tree. 
 
 spreading over sea and land. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 21 
 
 XV. 
 
 Strata overleaping strata from the center 
 
 to the crust, 
 Rose, Alp-high, in molten silence, as the 
 
 dead rise from the dust ; 
 Rounding over all its angles softly as 
 
 creation's call, 
 Poising on its noiseless nothing, spins 
 
 this intercipient ball. 
 
22 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Noiselessly, the bright procession ol the 
 Seasons rounds in sight, 
 
 Thronging up the deep perspective through 
 the minster-aisles of night ; 
 
 Noiselessly, the light's red chrism over- 
 flows the brim of space, 
 
 Like the wine, whose blushing colors pur- 
 ple in the chaliced vase. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 23 
 
 XVII. 
 
 As the fingers of the sunbeams lift the 
 
 drapery of night, 
 Soundlessly its forms are shaping 'neath 
 
 the touches of the light ; 
 And, with eloquence unuttered, speak they 
 
 to the listening heart, 
 As the traveler softly enters Nature's 
 
 gallery of Art. 
 
24 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Rolls the glimmering wheel of motion 
 
 ever without clog or jar, 
 In the orb, and in the ocean, in the earth's 
 
 incrusted star ; 
 In the law of heat, whose lever turns the 
 
 globe, without a sound ; 
 In the law of gravitation, holding motion 
 
 to its bound. 
 
SILENCE. 25 
 XIX. 
 
 Earth is but the frozen echo of the silent 
 
 voice of God, 
 Like a dewdrop in a crystal throbbing 
 
 in the senseless clod : 
 Silence is the heart of all things, sound, 
 
 the fluttering of its pulse, 
 Which the fever and the spasm of the 
 
 Universe convulse. 
 
26 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Silence is the incarnation of an infinite 
 idea, 
 
 Kept in nature by a process that we 
 
 neither see nor hear ; 
 For the thought of God eternal cannot 
 
 wholly be expressed, 
 But a fading arc of nature rolls in light 
 
 above the rest. 
 
SILENCE, 27 
 XXI. 
 
 Waveless seas are softly brewing in their 
 
 continents of stone, 
 On whose offing tossing shadows of white 
 
 sails shall yet be thrown; 
 Like the peace that passeth knowledge 
 
 shines the rainbow in the rock, 
 Perfect shapes we proi <ily waiting in the 
 
 unsuspected block. 
 
28 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Solemn spell of all the ages, finger on the 
 
 lip of God, 
 Like a shout of nations rising back to him 
 
 from sea and sod ; 
 The " I Am " of the Creator well opposed 
 
 in restful life, 
 To the " I Become " of creature, shuffling 
 
 in its fitful strife. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 29 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Every sound that breaks the silence only 
 
 makes it more profound, 
 Like a crash of deafening thunder in the 
 
 sweet blue stillness drowned ; 
 Let thy soul walk softly in thee, as a 
 
 saint in heaven unshod, 
 For to be alone with Silence is to be 
 
 alone with God. 
 
3o 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Swells a sound upon the prairie, roadly 
 
 heaving with the breeze, 
 Tis the roaring of the silence, like the 
 
 roaring of the seas; 
 Breaking out on that vast ocean in a 
 
 seething foam of flowers, 
 Splashing up its dripping spray of sunlight 
 
 through the dial-hours. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 3i 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Burn, ye stars like altar-candles, round the 
 
 golden throne of God ; 
 Bloom, ye flowers like fragrant footprints, 
 
 where his after-thoughts have trod; 
 Steal, oh river like a tear-drop over 
 
 Nature's furrowed cheek, 
 For there is no speech — no language, 
 
 where your silence does not speak. 
 
32 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 What is history? Half-blown Silence lift- 
 ing leaf by leaf its bud, 
 
 Be it read by book or battle, be it 
 traced by drops of blood ; 
 
 Providence, the perfect poem of a God 
 whose name is Love, 
 
 Set on earth to seeming discord, set to 
 music far above. 
 
SILENCE. y 
 XXVII. 
 
 That which makes the things that are 
 
 not like unto the things that are, 
 That which makes the past seem present, 
 
 bringing near the dim— the far; 
 Wisps a waif of mellow music from a 
 
 long forgotten harp, 
 Weaves a new and gorgeous fashion from 
 a faded woof and warp. 
 3 
 
34 SILENCE. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Overlooks a distant battle in the evening 
 
 of the day, 
 Calls the roll of earth's dead cities, hears 
 
 them start up from the clay; 
 Strikes a sense of living beauty on the 
 
 scenes that are no more, 
 Marks the ocean of oblivion cast its 
 shells upon the shore. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 35 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Every angel in his chainless freedom 
 
 looks upon a slave, 
 Eveiy star that shines in heaven still must 
 
 shine upon a grave ; 
 On the drift my feet are sliding, and my 
 
 earthly eyes are dust, 
 Up to God a voice I lift, in some such 
 
 words as these — I trust. 
 
36 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Voice of Silence, thou art speaking from 
 
 the Palace of the past, 
 On whose old memoric windows faces full 
 
 of life are cast ; 
 Where the Kings of thought, enthroned, 
 
 like a star on midnight peak, 
 Rule the world with silent spirits, who, 
 
 though being dead — yet speak. 
 
SILENCE. 37 
 XXXI. 
 
 Voice of Silence, thou art speaking in the 
 
 apanage of art, 
 In the mute, electric echoes that through 
 
 air and ocean dart ; 
 In the sunlight, falling on us like God's 
 
 shadow passing by, 
 At whose touch the dead are looking on 
 
 us with a life-like eye. 
 
5S 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Voice of Silence, thou art speaking from 
 
 the stone-sealed lips of sleep, 
 That, without a sound or motion, in its 
 
 spell all sound doth keep ; 
 In whose swaddling clothes enfolden lie, too 
 
 pure for waking sins, 
 Cradled in a mortal creature, Life and 
 
 Death, like sleeping twins. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 39 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Voice ot Silence, thou art speaking in the 
 
 ministry of man, 
 On the Nebo of remora, prophet to an 
 
 endless plan ; 
 And, by silent testimony, and, by influence 
 
 unheard, 
 
 Doth he more for God 01 devil, than he 
 doth by war or word. 
 
40 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Voice of Silence, thou art speaking on the 
 
 Patmos-isle of earth. 
 Where God's reachless revelations rise 
 
 unuttered from their birth; 
 Brightly, like a burning city, flames the 
 
 sunset in the sky, 
 Through whose great cathedral-window 
 
 shines the City built on high. 
 
SILENCE, 
 
 41 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Silence on the pallid face-cloth, Silence 
 
 on the snowy grave, 
 Silence on the sleeping city, Silence far 
 
 below the wave : 
 Silence, as of music slumbering on her harp 
 
 within the deep, 
 Sound is but the dream of Silence, Silence 
 
 talking in its sleep. 
 
42 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Sound is but the rippling shadow of the 
 silence, deep and grand, 
 
 Silent is the force that hideth in the 
 sound of wheel and hand ; 
 
 Silent is the power that riots in the tem- 
 pest's wanton might ; 
 
 Just behind the floating storm-cloud lies 
 the calm eternal light. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 43 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Faintly on the solid silence comes the 
 
 carven bust of Thought, 
 Shadow of all earthly sculpture by an. 
 
 artist ever wrought ; 
 Without sound, and without touching, felt 
 
 to form it stands outlined, 
 Solid fact, and fine-grained finish, on the 
 
 marble of the mind. 
 
44 
 
 SILENCE, 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Thus it was that as I wandered, often, on 
 the yellow beach, 
 
 Day to day was uttering knowledge, night 
 to night was showing speech : 
 
 Till the stillness grew oppressive, so that 
 when I left the spot, 
 
 On the sounding shore the ocean thun- 
 dered ; but I heard it not. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 45 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 In the spell of summer evenings, 'neath 
 the light of mellow moons, 
 
 Glide the gondoliers of Venice dimly down 
 the blue lagoons : 
 
 O, the songs that melt along those purl- 
 ing streets beyond the sea ! 
 
 O, the sweet Italian twilights ! O, the 
 land of Italy ! 
 
4 6 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Once, my heated soul was looking from 
 
 the window of its hope, 
 And before it lay life's landscape with 
 
 the sun upon the slope : 
 Far I leaned into the Future, from the 
 
 Old into the New, 
 But my breath hath blurred the glass, and 
 
 hid the vision from my view. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 47 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Once, my pure white thoughts lay floating 
 
 on my heart, as floats the flake 
 Of the christened water-lily starred upon 
 
 the crystal lake : 
 But the ice of tears has hardened on that 
 
 crimson-crusted stream, 
 On its lilies, crushed and shattered, dead 
 
 within a frozen dream. 
 
48 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 And to-night, when stars are shivering 
 
 coldly to the darkened slope, 
 Still a soul is sadly looking from the 
 
 window of its hope ; 
 Longing in its gentle grief to fly away 
 
 and be at rest, 
 Like the nightingale complaining to the 
 
 red thorn at its breast. 
 
SILENCE, 
 
 49 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Hear a broken voice within thee struggling 
 with the perfect will, 
 
 Hush it in the strong submission of thy 
 spirit, and be still : 
 
 Stillness, in which thou shalt hear the fall- 
 ing of a lifted rod, 
 
 Stillness, in which thou shalt hear the full- 
 orbed whisper of a God. 
 
5o 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Then it was my heart, affrighted, fled within 
 
 me, like a roe 
 When it hears the arrow hurtle from the 
 
 Indian hunter's bow ; 
 Till I stood beyond the sunset, heard the 
 
 sounds of trouble cease, 
 Felt the stars, God's silent whispers, throb 
 
 through all the purple peace. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 51 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Somewhere on this moving planet, in the 
 
 mist of years to be, 
 In the silence, in the shadow, waits a 
 
 loving heart for thee; 
 Somewhere in the beckoning heavens. 
 
 where they know as they are known, 
 Are the empty arms above thee that shall 
 
 clasp thee for their own. 
 
52 
 
 SILENCE, 
 
 XLVL 
 
 Somewhere in the far-off silence, I shall 
 
 feel a vanished hand, 
 Somewhere I shall know a voice that now 
 
 I cannot understand ; 
 Somewhere ! Where art thou, oh spectre 
 
 of illimitable Space ? 
 Silent scene without a shadow, silent 
 
 sphere without a place. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 53 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Conies there back no sound beyond us 
 
 where the trackless sunbeam calls? 
 Comes there back no wraith of music, 
 
 melting through the crystal walls? 
 Comes there back no bird, to lisp us of 
 
 the great forevermore, 
 With a leaf of Life, unwithered, plucked 
 
 upon the farther shore ? 
 
54 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Why are they so strangely silent, are they 
 
 more or are they less? 
 Are their spirits lost forever in the vault 
 
 of nothingness? 
 Why yon gates of pearl so fastened? 
 
 why yon stirless dead so dumb ? 
 What has o'er those silent travelers in 
 
 the march of Ages come? 
 
SILENCE, 
 
 55 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Break, O, break this bitter silence ! speak 
 
 unto me once again ! 
 Tell me, shall I e'er behold thee ? tell 
 
 me, do I wait in vain? 
 O, my mother! O, my mother! Ship 
 
 beneaped on foreign shore, 
 Answerless the air around me, answerless 
 
 forevermore. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 Tell me, O yon wind, that plashes where 
 
 the wild bird hath not flown, 
 On what strand beyond the sunset shall 
 
 the Soul's white sail be blown ? 
 Brightly on the purple upland stream 
 
 the banners of the sun, 
 But the light of Nature fadeth, and 
 
 another day is done. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 57 
 
 LI. 
 
 I remember, as the shadows darken coldly 
 
 to the past, 
 One, whose beauty could but linger, one, 
 
 whose beauty could not last ; 
 All the large orb of her spirit, glowing 
 
 in its central sky, 
 Slowly faded into sunset, through the 
 
 twilight of her eye. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 LII. 
 
 Fashioned like a form in marble shone 
 
 the lily of her face, 
 Like a chapter from the Bible, it was 
 
 read in every place ; 
 Fixed in deep and serious sweetness, 
 
 passionate with self-control, 
 So she swept, a sweet enchantress, through 
 
 the portal of my soul. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Every word she spake was fitted like a 
 
 gesture to her hand, 
 Every look at her was like a visit to a 
 
 foreign land ; 
 She was fair, and still I count her as the 
 
 mould of all her race; 
 She was fair, and still I hold it least, 
 
 I looked her in the face. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Swiftly then I clasped her spirit closely 
 
 in my larger thought, 
 She to all my life was likened she to ail 
 
 my love was wrought; 
 Soon for me that sweet face vanished, soon 
 
 I saw that form depart, 
 But her love becomes an angel in the 
 
 heaven of my heart. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 61 
 
 Oft there rises one before me with a calm 
 
 and constant eye, 
 And she lifts her warning finger, points 
 
 my darkened path on high ; 
 O, invisible atonement! stretching o'er 
 
 the gulfs of space, 
 Spirit witnessing to Spirit, what to this 
 
 were voice — were fa^e ! 
 
62 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Now, by that unchanging river and by 
 
 that untelling sun, 
 Where we used to walk together often 
 
 when the day was done, 
 Still the woodbine and the willow love in 
 
 sisterhood to grow, 
 But we parted, where their shadows wed 
 
 our spirits long ago. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 63 
 
 LVIL 
 
 Waft her white soul up to heaven for a 
 
 truce to sin and time, 
 Waft her, winds, beyond the mountain, 
 
 where the white cloud loves to climb ; 
 Sweeps the soul with wing unbroken, bolted 
 
 past, and massive wall, 
 Not until the door was shut, that Christ 
 
 stood in the banquet-hall. 
 
6 4 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 I shall slumber, but it recks not where my 
 
 lonely grave be made, 
 Whether you and I together in a kindred 
 
 ground are laid : 
 I shall slumber, but it recks not who 
 
 shall touch me in the gloom, 
 Twins, that sleep within the cradle, are not 
 
 twins within the tomb. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 65 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Soon this heart shall stop its beating, but 
 
 its reddened dust shall rise; 
 I shall live in other faces, I shall look in 
 
 other eyes : 
 Toss the winecup to the wassail, riot in 
 
 the winds that rave, 
 There is rest within the cradle, there is 
 
 none within the ^rave. 
 
66 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Wings are growing on the restless eagle 
 ot the migrant soul, 
 
 Soon its strong, imprisoned pinions shall 
 bound up to God — its goal : 
 
 Without wing-beat, without motion, pois- 
 ing in the clear " I Am," 
 
 Poising in the shadowy eyry of God's 
 high colossal cann. 
 
SILENCE, 
 
 67 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Thus it happened, as I wandered often on 
 
 the whitened cliff, 
 While the moon hung o'er the mountain, 
 
 moored there like a crescent-skiff, 
 That my memory shone within me o er 
 
 the Ocean of the years, 
 And I saw through all my lifetime refluent 
 
 waves of smiles and tears. 
 
68 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Like a breath upon a bugle, when its silver 
 
 echo thrills 
 All among the answering mountains, all 
 
 about the whispering hills; 
 Like a bird within a forest, when it tweaks 
 
 a little song, 
 Till the whole deep wood is haunted with 
 
 the music of a throng. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 69 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 All things yet shall work together, and 
 
 so working orb in one, 
 As the sun draws back its sunbeams, when 
 
 the dial-day is done: 
 All things yet shall gather roundly, and 
 
 unite, and shape, and climb, 
 Into Truth's great golden unit, in the ripe 
 
 result of time. 
 
7o 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Wisdom ripens unto silence as she grows 
 
 more truly wise, 
 And she wears a mellow sadness, in her 
 
 heart, and in her eyes : 
 Wisdom ripens unto silence, and the lesson 
 
 she doth teach, 
 Is that life is more than language, and that 
 
 thought is more than speech. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 71 
 
 LXV. 
 
 What to me the proud traditions of a 
 philosophic age, 
 
 If they dwarf the growth of progress sneer- 
 ing at a recent page? 
 
 What to me the reverent teachings that I 
 heard of in my youth, 
 
 If they close the last inquiry of my spirit, 
 " What is Truth ? " 
 
72 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 What is Truth? Thy jewelled finger points 
 
 like light, with swerveless trend, 
 From the Orient of knowledge to the path 
 
 that hath no end : 
 What is Truth ? Religion ponders, science 
 
 bends her listening ears ; 
 Through the fallow of the Future, break the 
 
 seeds of silent years. 
 
SILENCE. 73 
 LXVIT. 
 
 I was brought up at the altar of a mothers 
 
 bended knee, 
 I was sprinkled with the baptism of her 
 
 tears that fell on me; 
 I was born a sleeping orphan in a living 
 
 mother's arms, 
 Never life wove faster colors, never love 
 
 wove closer charms. 
 
74 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LXVILI. 
 
 Some one told Christ that his father and 
 
 his mother stood outside, 
 Turned he him to those that quickly brought 
 
 the message and replied ; 
 Say to them, Who is my mother? And 
 
 upon his way he trod. 
 Not of blood or bone begotten, I was born 
 
 the child of God. 
 
SILENCE. 75 
 LXIX. 
 
 Who am I that I should truckle, puppet 
 
 to a low intent? 
 On God's errand I enlisted, by God's spirit 
 
 I was sent : 
 Unseen hands of ordination upon all my 
 
 life were laid, 
 What to this is man's commission? In 
 
 God's image men are made. 
 
76 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Faith is but an idle canvas, flapping on 
 
 an idle mast, 
 If it be not found within thee as the work 
 
 of life at last : 
 Dotaged faith is but a fancy, he who waits 
 
 that dream is lost, 
 And his creed is but a millstone, and his 
 
 God is but a ghost. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 77 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Very like the soul is sleeping soundly 
 underneath the sod, 
 
 Very like the soul is walking softly over- 
 head with God ; 
 
 Likelihood alone is certain. Who shall 
 speak while God is dumb ? 
 
 Credent doubt is but the shadow of the 
 larger faith to come. 
 
78 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Go to Silence. Win her secret, she shall 
 
 teach thee how to speak 
 Shape to which all else is shadow grows 
 
 within thee clear, and bleak; 
 Go to Silence. She shall teach thee ; ripe 
 
 fruit hangs within thy reach, 
 He alone hath clearly spoken, who hath 
 
 learned this. Thought is Speech. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 79 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 O thou strong and sacred silence, self- 
 contained in self-control, 
 
 O thou palliating silence, Sabbath art 
 thou of the soul : 
 
 Lie like snow upon my virtues, lie like 
 dust upon my faults, 
 
 Silent when the world dethrones me, silent 
 when the world exalts. 
 
8o 
 
 SILENCE, 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Tamper not with idle rumor, lest the truth 
 
 appear to lie, 
 Carve thy life to hilted silence, wrong 
 
 shall fall on it, and die: 
 Tamper not with accusation, harvest not 
 
 what thou hast heard, 
 Christ stood in the court of Pilate, but he 
 
 answered not a word. 
 
SILENCE, 6k 
 LXXV. 
 
 Know thou this that there is nothing in 
 
 the sounding lists of strife, 
 That so fortifies thy manhood as the 
 argument of life : 
 Listen not to old wives' fables/' draw 
 thyself from such apart, 
 Keep the thought of life, like Mary, virgin 
 to a virgin's heart. 
 6 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 Prattle is the children's portion, gossip is 
 
 the prate of fools, 
 Talk is but a blundering error, truth shall 
 
 work with sharper tools : 
 Shallow sentiments that bubble, bubble on 
 
 the froth of thought, 
 Clearer crystals of conception by the 
 
 undercurrent wrought. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 83 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Louder than the blast of bugle, louder 
 
 than the beat of drum, 
 Sounds the clarion of conscience to a 
 
 spirit overcome: 
 Louder than the crashing boulder down 
 
 its precipice doth roll, 
 Slides the avalanche of sorrow, through 
 the winter of the soul. 
 
*4 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 I have seen an eagle standing in the full- 
 orbed sun at noon, 
 
 I have seen a bird drift darkly up across 
 the midnight moon ; 
 
 I have seen a spirit passing over in the 
 deepening eye, 
 
 Too far off to hear its music, like the bird 
 within the sky. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 *5 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 What shall sorrow say to sorrow like to 
 
 tears that fall unsaid? 
 For as life is to the living, so is death unto 
 
 the dead : 
 
 Sympathy shall sit before thee seven days 
 
 mutely on the ground, 
 Sorrow is a voice too tender to be drowned 
 
 by ruder sound. 
 
86 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 It is well for us to suffer, it is well for us 
 to wait, 
 
 Well to swing like little children all our life 
 
 on death's loose gate; 
 Well to feel a mortal sickness wean the soul 
 
 from earthly spell, 
 Well to hear when all is over that sweet 
 
 whisper, " All is well." 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 37 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 God hath set all things in being sliding out 
 of sound and sight, 
 
 Dropping down to mighty death dust in the 
 marble Urn of night ; 
 
 Blessed sacrament of Silence, holy shadow- 
 sphere of rest, 
 
 On thy scroll forever fading like a smoulder- 
 ing palimpsest. 
 
88 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 Deepening in thy sad sweet stillness 
 
 round the burning deeds of wrong, 
 Hushing back the clamoring judgments 
 
 of a vast unreckoned throng ; 
 Soothing o'er the cry of sorrow, drying up 
 
 the blood of pain, 
 With thy finger on the lip of cares, that 
 
 now no more complain. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Still across the Eden woodlands slide the 
 
 birds in summer flock, 
 Pawing horse, and tawny panther, cataract, 
 
 and thunder-shock: 
 Still the blow that Cain struck Abel falleth 
 
 through the quivering air, 
 3n the head of every creature, echoing 
 
 Death— Death— everywhere. 
 
9° 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Buried cities, stranded navies, crashing 
 
 battles, ravening storms, 
 Echo in the thirsty ether, and with sounds 
 
 the still air swarms : 
 On its burial field of centuries quiet like 
 
 the night doth fall, 
 Silence! Keep thy vigilled bivouac, with 
 
 the sweet stars over all. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 91 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Silence is the voice of Spirit, silence is the 
 
 voice of God, 
 Since he said; "go, preach my gospel" he 
 
 hath never spoken word: 
 Many a power since then hath perished, 
 
 many a charm hath lost its spell, 
 But that ever silent Spirit still on earth is 
 
 ruling well. 
 
92 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 44 There was silence up in heaven for the 
 
 space of half an hour," 
 And the angel held his harp-string standing 
 
 in the jasper door: 
 And the lights blew out in darkness, 
 
 strangely, sadly, one by one, 
 And the sun stood still on Gibeon, and 
 
 the moon on Ajalon. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 93 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 "It is finished!" "Father, hear me!" 
 
 " Why hast Thou forsaken me ? " 
 But around him Silence gathered, silently, 
 
 how silently : 
 " If it were not so I would have told you," 
 
 sounds upon my ear, 
 Splendid silence, thou hast told me more 
 
 than souls in heaven may hear. 
 
94 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 Subtle secret without solving since the 
 years were in their youth, 
 
 Staring like the Sphinx forever from the 
 trackless sands of truth: 
 
 Bright Apocalypse of vision dark Apoc- 
 rypha of cloud. 
 
 Silence something more than stillness 
 thinking to itself aloud. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 95 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Still I wandered for the last time on the 
 
 sliding beach, apart, 
 Solacing the widening lesion of an unre- 
 
 turning heart : 
 Saw the creamy sail dip brightly far behind 
 
 the silver wave, 
 Saw the moon drop down the heaven to 
 
 its coral-coffined grave. 
 
96 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 xc. 
 
 Dips the white sail of my spirit down the 
 
 trending sea of death, 
 Silent sea without a ripple, save the ripple 
 
 of a breath : 
 Moving out for pass or shipwreck, without 
 
 signal, gun, or light. 
 To the phantom-pilot rounding on the 
 
 misty Reef of night. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 97 
 
 XCI. 
 
 Still my faith will take the hand ot him 
 
 whose form I cannot trace, 
 As I take your hand in darkness though 
 
 I cannot see your face • 
 Sit down by the side of God in heaven 
 
 with rapture deep and wild, 
 As T sat down by my mother when j ^ 
 
 a little chilH 
 
9 8 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 Softly like a meteor falling drops the tear 
 
 that Jesus wept, 
 On the human tear beneath it, in the heart 
 
 that Christ hath kept : 
 Creature in Creator meeting, crystallizing 
 into one, 
 
 /vs stalactite meets stalagmite, standing 
 pillared where they run. 
 
SILENCE. 9g 
 XCIII. 
 
 Steals a rich and dreamy sombre on the 
 
 landscape, overworn, 
 Comes a crimson on the aster, comes a 
 
 purple on the thorn ; 
 Shadows, lost like orphan-children, scattered 
 
 lie on lake and lea, 
 Many a wan and weary spirit longs for 
 silence, and for thee. 
 
IOO 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 On the doorstep of my dwelling leaves' 
 
 are falling like a prayer, 
 Little tracts from heaven, left there by the 
 
 angel of the air : 
 Read the leaf and learn the lesson, silent 
 
 Voice to you and me, 
 Like the leaf I too shall wither, with the 
 
 leaf I soon shall be. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 101 
 
 xcv. 
 
 Fall around me feathery silence, fall around 
 
 me as I faint, 
 Heaven's casement-curtains closing softly 
 
 round the dying saint : 
 Shades of faintness coming o'er me, as 
 
 Death's iron gates unroll, 
 With the famine in my face, but with the 
 
 harvest in my soul. 
 
I02 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 Turn me on my fevered pillow, for the 
 
 night is turning too, 
 I will bolster up my courage, I will see 
 
 what death can do : 
 Death whose spectre stalks so coldly, what 
 
 is death? (we do thee wrong) 
 But life stopping in its singing, to take 
 
 breath for endless song. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 103 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 Do not weep. I will not leave you. I 
 
 will never, never change, 
 I will try, but if I cannot speak, you must 
 
 not think it strange ; 
 Don't you think God's everlasting arms 
 
 are put round you and me? 
 And I know somewhere between them, 
 
 that the Gate of heaven will be. 
 
104 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 XCVIIL 
 
 At the center of Creation lies a spot of 
 
 ceaseless rest, 
 Where the silent spirit broodeth like a 
 
 dove upon its nest : 
 Round it runs the deep horizon in its golden 
 
 quiet curled, 
 Round it at the wheel of Motion spins the 
 
 fashion of the world. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 105 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 Noiselessly thy gates swing open for their 
 
 bars are made of light, 
 Swinging on the raven darkness from the 
 
 outer-wall of night ; 
 Crystal city of the Silent, built beyond 
 
 the sounds of sin, 
 Lift afar your swarming gateways let, the 
 
 silent myriads in. 
 
io6 
 
 SILEXCE. 
 
 Ever after mortal effort, ever after mortal 
 
 pains, 
 
 Something to which light is shadow, some- 
 thing unexpressed remains : 
 
 Ever after human question, ever after 
 human quest, 
 
 Something farther than the farthest, some- 
 thing better than the Best. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 107 
 
 CI. 
 
 God shall keep the growing secret of the 
 
 silence in his heart, 
 Through the crescent years of Knowledge, 
 
 through the golden days of Art : 
 Silent heart whose birthless beatings throb 
 
 so softly in their place, 
 That God cannot hear himself, in all the 
 continent of Space. 
 
"THE INVISIBLE TRAVELLER. 
 
 And other Poems. 
 
 A NEW BOOK BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 And one which has been pronounced, by eminent English 
 Literary authority, of the same remarkable order as 
 " Silence." Is in press and will be issued immediately. 
 Martin F. Tupper, Lord Houghton, and others, pronounce 
 it, over their own signatures, "A Magnificent Poem." 
 Plain, 81.00. Illustrated, $2.00. 
 
 Also by the same author a new Poem entitled 
 
 ST. PAUL, 
 
 Price, 75 cts. 
 Mailed free, on receipt of price, by the publisher, 
 
 D. S. HOLMES, 
 
 89 Fourth St., Brooklyn, E. D. 
 
GREENWOOD, 
 
 A Beautiful Poem in One Volume. 
 
 The second publication of the same author, published 
 since "Silence." A selection of which appears at length in 
 Longfellow's "Poems of Places." This poem has shared 
 the s ime literary respect so universally shown to "'Silence." 
 Bound in uniform style with "Silence." In Muslin, plain, 
 $1.00; Illustrated, full gilt, bevel boards, $2.00. Either 
 sent free on receipt of price. 
 
 Address the Publisher, 
 
 D. S. HOLMES, 
 89 Fourth Street, Brooklyn. E. d. 
 
 Also Sold by the Trade generally.