VOICES by OLIVER MURRAY EDWARDS

There are voices that come from the beyond,
And voices from the near;
Still voices that speak to the soul within;
Voices the ear doth hear;
Fierce voices that scorch with the fires of hate;
Voices that breathe of love;
Soft voices that come from the depths of Hell;
Voices from Heav'n above.

When the call of the wild is in my blood,
I hear the eagle's cry
From his eyrie high in the cliffs above
That almost touch the sky;
I see him ascend on his pinions strong
'Til lost in light of day,
And in swift descent, as with earthward sweep,
He falls upon his prey.

And oft as I rest in my camp at night
I hear a distant cry—
While the hoot of an owl doth answer back,
The moon keeps watch on high.
Then I breathe my thanks to the God of Love
For comforts that surround,
For my fragrant bed made from balsam boughs
And moss rugs on the ground.

When the voice of the Typhoon shrieks through storm
Defying sea and shore,
The boom of the Ocean answering back
Blends with the awful roar;
Where the breakers foam on the rocks below,
Fierce voices cry to me,
And I thank the God in Heaven above
I am not on the sea.

When the breezes of summer stir the trees
Then whispers come to me,
Soft voices of love that speak to the heart
With breath of mystery:
With the glint of the sun through branches green,
And song of birds above—
I hark to the rustle of Angels' wings
And hear God's voice of love.

And oft as I think in the silent night,
A still, small voice I hear,
That speaks to the heart and the soul within
And not the outer ear;
Dream voices of loved ones come from beyond,
Above earth, sky and sea,
As they watch and wait on the Golden Strand
Of God's Eternity.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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