Whispering voice of the modest night, Soft as the sigh of a falling leaf, Sad like the sob of a new-born grief Lulled in the bosom of delight; Voice of the starry wilderness, Lost in the ancient aisles of light— Lingering there in a museful flight— Speak to me now with your old caress. Voice of the night and voice of my own, Kiss from my soul its wan distress; Lull my heart to joy's excess With the charm of a lover's monotone! Is it a dream, this voice serene, Whispering down from the starry zone, Crooning of love for me alone— Love of my love for my heart's dead queen? Speak to me, voice of the years untold, Echo the thoughts of your olden trust, Of men and women turned to dust And nations lost in burial mold. Speak to me out of the dreamful past, When life was a song from a hoop of gold, And say, O night! shall mine eyes behold The face of my love again—at last? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 14 by JAMES JOYCE A DAY IN BED by KATHERINE MANSFIELD DEAR OLD DICK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS JOHNNY APPLESEED by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE GREAT RACE PASSES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |