I know your voice. I hear it in the wind; I hear it in the silence of the night. Its echoes sweetly vibrate on my mind, Though never do I comprehend it quite. I list unto its soft and gentle tones In meadow brooks and in each gurgling rill, It cries to me from out the very stones, And everywhere its accents haunt me still. It conjures up the scenes of childhood days, When pure of heart I wandered in the wood And listened to the linnet trill its lays Of happiness and peace.—Then life seemed good, And God was close at hand, and I could hear That still, small voice which prompted me to be All that my inner soul had long held dear, And purest love was its affinity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING by HAYDEN CARRUTH JULY IN GEORGY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON BOOTH'S PHILIPPI by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE BLIND by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HENRY MOORE'S STATUE AT LINCOLN CENTER by KAREN SWENSON |