  O voices! voices! mysterious voices! Why are ye haunting me evermore? Thrilling my soul with your ceaseless murmurs, Like phantom waves on a ghostly shore? And whether by day, toilstained and weary, Or when eve fades into lonesome night, Still in dreams ye haunt me like a vision, Hovering near at the dawn’s pale light. Some are soothing and laden with sweetness, And others are weary all their days. Ah, how the voices of children move me! God bless their tender, innocent ways! And the voices of old float around me, Though silenced by time’s faded years; Their feet have passed o’er the dark river That winds through the dim vale of tears. And the voice of the seasons, ever flowing Outward and into the void of time, Sadden my heart with their pain and losses, And the few sweet days that were divine. The voice of winds at the solemn midnight, Through realms of space as they soar on high, Chanting wild dirges o’er land and ocean, ’Neath a dreary moonless, starless sky. Or caressing the beautiful summer, Sweetly asleep ’neath the silver moon; Or lightly playing o’er mead and moorland, And hills asleep in the golden noon. As ’t restlessly ripples on the shore; Or when tempests sweep o’er its heaving bosom And mighty billows in anger roar. And the voice of the sphere’s silent glory, Forever sweeping the vast unknown; Revolving around some wonderful centre— O celestial centre!—Alcyone! Listen, my soul (for ’tis not finite), To a song that comes from the infinite shore, Stealing down through the far starry spaces, Repeating its rapture o’er and o’er. Sometimes ’tis as of a thousand harpers, And a thousand voices blending sweet— Can it be, my soul, that ’tis an echo Of the angels’ song at the Saviour’s feet? Sing on! sing on, ye mysterious voices! Though I can’t tell all your song would say, We may know the way of the starry spaces When night-time fades into endless day. |
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