I LISTEN to the stillness of
you,
My dear, among it all;
I feel your silence touch my
words as I talk,
And take them in thrall.
My words fly off a forge
The length of
a spark;
I see the
night-sky easily sip them
Up in the
dark.
The lark sings loud and
glad,
Yet I am not loth
That silence should take the song and the
bird
And lose them both.
A train goes roaring
south,
The steam-flag flying;
I see the stealthy shadow of
silence
Alongside going.
And off the forge of the
world,
Whirling in the draught of life,
Go sparks of myriad people,
filling
The night with strife.
Yet they never change the
darkness
Or blench it with noise;
Alone on the perfect
silence
The stars are buoys.