 | Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights |  |
THE BEAUTIFUL SILENCE:
Composed on seeing a beautiful Deaf Mute Lady.
Thou art the Angel of the voiceful silence
Christ left behind him when he went to God—
Fair to the Earth as to the Sea those Islands
Where Beauty with the Graces took up their abode;
For, as Cytheria to the ever-sounding Sea
Was silent, when most beautiful, art thou to all things unto me.
Christ left behind him when he went to God—
Fair to the Earth as to the Sea those Islands
Where Beauty with the Graces took up their abode;
For, as Cytheria to the ever-sounding Sea
Was silent, when most beautiful, art thou to all things unto me.
Thy knowledge comes to thee down-flowing,
As does an Angel's, free from earthly sin,
Out of the life divine of God all-knowing—
Ours from without—thine to thy soul within—
And, Angel-like, although thy lips are mute,
Like Israfel in Heaven, thy heartstrings are a lute.
As does an Angel's, free from earthly sin,
Out of the life divine of God all-knowing—
Ours from without—thine to thy soul within—
And, Angel-like, although thy lips are mute,
Like Israfel in Heaven, thy heartstrings are a lute.
All those discordant, ever-jarring noises
Which grate upon our souls, thou hast not heard;
But thou dost hear, unheard to us, the heavenly Voices
Made audible to thee through God's most holy Word;
For, being an Angel, thou dost use an Angel's tongue,
Silence, God's holy language, sweeter far than Song.
Which grate upon our souls, thou hast not heard;
But thou dost hear, unheard to us, the heavenly Voices
Made audible to thee through God's most holy Word;
For, being an Angel, thou dost use an Angel's tongue,
Silence, God's holy language, sweeter far than Song.
20
Like some sweet Star afar off in the ether,
Singing, while shining, in the Heavens above,
For all the rest to hear, but hearing neither—
Yet still dispensing rarest gifts of love—
So, thy dear soul sits here in peace secure,
Shrined in the milk-white Temple of thy body pure.
Singing, while shining, in the Heavens above,
For all the rest to hear, but hearing neither—
Yet still dispensing rarest gifts of love—
So, thy dear soul sits here in peace secure,
Shrined in the milk-white Temple of thy body pure.
Thou dost inherit all that heavenly treasure—
Direct communion with the Life Divine—
Which Angel's language, Silence without measure,
Can only give to such sweet souls as thine;
For, through thine isolation, thou dost live
The life divine that only Death to other souls can give.
Direct communion with the Life Divine—
Which Angel's language, Silence without measure,
Can only give to such sweet souls as thine;
For, through thine isolation, thou dost live
The life divine that only Death to other souls can give.
God could bestow on me no heavenlier Vision
Than gazing on thy form, dear heavenly One!
Thinking of thee, I rove through Fields Elysian,
In mental walks, with His dear blessed Son!
For, where thou art, there Christ must ever be;
And there, or not, thy presence makes him there to me.
Than gazing on thy form, dear heavenly One!
Thinking of thee, I rove through Fields Elysian,
In mental walks, with His dear blessed Son!
For, where thou art, there Christ must ever be;
And there, or not, thy presence makes him there to me.
Thou art more beautiful than milk-white Una—
Meeker than Mercy, gentler than sweet Sleep—
Fairer to me than to Endymion Luna—
Coming from Heaven to teach me how to weep,
With piteous love, for thy dear, blessed sake—
Whose lamb-like innocence should make the World's heart break.
Meeker than Mercy, gentler than sweet Sleep—
Fairer to me than to Endymion Luna—
Coming from Heaven to teach me how to weep,
With piteous love, for thy dear, blessed sake—
Whose lamb-like innocence should make the World's heart break.
A living music, voiceless, yet forever
Speaking such words as tongue can never tell;
A heavenly Hymn, whose echoes shall die never,
As long as this sweet Song shall say Farewell;
For, fare-thee-well comes freer from the heart
Of those who meet, than those who say it when they part.
Speaking such words as tongue can never tell;
A heavenly Hymn, whose echoes shall die never,
As long as this sweet Song shall say Farewell;
For, fare-thee-well comes freer from the heart
Of those who meet, than those who say it when they part.
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Two of the golden strings of thy dear harp are broken,
Leaving the harp-strings of thy spirit still complete;
Words, by thy tongue, have never yet been spoken,
Yet, thy dear soul doth warble words most sweet,
Whereon blest Spirits, from their bright Abode,
Make music such as please the very Ears of God.
Leaving the harp-strings of thy spirit still complete;
Words, by thy tongue, have never yet been spoken,
Yet, thy dear soul doth warble words most sweet,
Whereon blest Spirits, from their bright Abode,
Make music such as please the very Ears of God.
Thou hearest the far-off, endless chiming
Of the eternal music of the Spheres;
And knowest, by intuition, all the rhyming
Of all the Cycles of the rhythmic years;
And walkest, in spirit, where no foot has ever trod,
With beautiful, milk-white feet up to the shining Mount of God.
Of the eternal music of the Spheres;
And knowest, by intuition, all the rhyming
Of all the Cycles of the rhythmic years;
And walkest, in spirit, where no foot has ever trod,
With beautiful, milk-white feet up to the shining Mount of God.
Oh! God! if this dear, heavenly creature
Were only mine, what would I do for thee?
Seeing her wearing here each God-like feature
Of Christ, while Incarnating Heaven for me;
And living here on earth the life divine,
And, Star-like, singing, shining while she makes me shine.
Were only mine, what would I do for thee?
Seeing her wearing here each God-like feature
Of Christ, while Incarnating Heaven for me;
And living here on earth the life divine,
And, Star-like, singing, shining while she makes me shine.
Tontine Hotel, New Haven, October 31, 1851.
| Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights | |