  Oft in the starry middle night I vex my heart in vain, To set its mystic music right, And find the hidden strain. To-night the summer moon is strong, The little clouds drift past,— The wonder is too deep for song— The silence speaks at last. “Thou canst not match those harmonies On moon-enamoured lute, Serenely silent arch the skies, And the great stars are mute; “Thou canst not tune to thine unrest Their solemn calm above; In silence thou shalt worship best, And reverently love. “Beyond this night in which thou art, There is a voice of spheres, Which the eternal in thine heart Remembers and reveres. “But how they sing in unison Earth’s ear hath never heard, So only in thine heart rings on The song that has no word.” |
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