THE saddest silence falls when Laughter lays Finger on lip, and falteringly breaks The glad voice into dying minor shakes And quavers, lorn as airs the wind-harp plays At urge of drearest Winter's bleakest days: A troubled hush, in which all hope forsakes Us, and the yearning upstrained vision aches With tears that drown e'en heaven from our gaze. Such silence -- after such glad merriment! O prince of halest humor, wit and cheer! Could you yet speak to us, I doubt not we Should catch your voice, still blithely eloquent Above all murmurings of sorrow here, Calling your love back to us laughingly. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MIDDLETON PLACE by AMY LOWELL IMPRESSIONS OF FRANCOIS-MARIE AROUET (DE VOLTAIRE) by EZRA POUND IN A BREATH; TO THE WILLIAMSON BROTHERS by CARL SANDBURG ULTIMA VERITAS by WASHINGTON GLADDEN THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) INDEPENDENCE by HENRY DAVID THOREAU |