There is the silence of a great hatred, And the silence of a great love, And the silence of an embittered friendship. There is the silence of a spiritual crisis, Through which your soul, exquisitely tortured, Comes with visions not to be uttered Into a realm of higher life. There is the silence of defeat. There is the silence of those unjustly punished; And the silence of the dying whose hand Suddenly grips yours. There is the silence between father and son, When the father cannot explain his life, Even though he be misunderstood for it.
There is the silence that comes between husband and wife. There is the silence of those who have failed; And the vast silence that covers Broken nations and vanquished leaders. There is the silence of Lincoln, Thinking of the poverty of his youth. And the silence of Napoleon After Waterloo. And the silence of Jeanne d’Arc Saying amid the flames, “Blessed Jesus”— Revealing in two words all sorrows, all hope. And there is the silence of age, Too full of wisdom for the tongue to utter it In words intelligible to those who have not lived The great range of life.
And there is the silence of the dead. If we who are in life cannot speak Of profound experiences, Why do you marvel that the dead Do not tell you of death? Their silence shall be interpreted As we approach them.
One wept whose only child was dead New-born, ten years ago. “Weep not; he is in bliss,” they said. She answered, “Even so.
“Ten years ago was born in pain A child not now forlorn. But oh, ten years ago, in vain A mother, a mother was born.”
Brief on a flying night, From the shaken tower, A flock of bells take flight, And go with the hour.
Like birds from the cote to the gales, Abrupt—oh, hark!— A fleet of bells set sails, And go to the dark.
Sudden the cold airs swing: Alone, aloud, A verse of bells takes wing And flies with the cloud.
O brother tree! O brother tree! Tell to me, thy brother, The secret of thy life, The wonder of thy being.
My brother tree, my brother tree, My heart is open to thee— Reveal me all thy secrets.
Beloved tree, beloved tree, I have shattered all my pride. I love thee, brother, as myself. Oh, explain to me thy wonders.
Beloved one, adored one, I will not babble of it among fools— I will tell it only to the unspoiled: Reveal to me thy being.