My Voiceless World
My Voiceless World.
Now resting in the calm of eventide,
My weaving done, the shuttle laid aside,
As lone I sit and watch the shadows fall,
Fond memory through the shadowed years doth call
To life’s bright morning, when a spirit fair
Dwelt by my side and bade the joyous air
Vibrate to loving voice and laughter gay—
Oh, spirit fair so soon to pass away!
For while the morning yet was young there came
From Him who knows, a messenger to claim
My blessed spirit, who her wings unfurled
And left me living in a voiceless world.
Then evermore to me was Nature mute
And hushed the voice of viol and of lute
And hushed the voice of prayer, the song of praise
Within His courts, through all my length of days.
In vain for me his music swells on high;
In vain for me the Autumn winds doth sigh
In brooding numbers, or the Summer breeze
Chant his low lone notes to the listening trees,
Nor any voice of bird nor voice of seas
May charm my silence with its harmonies:
Nor voice of love, O human love! may bless
My heart, still yearning for its tenderness.
But God is good, and though I dwell apart,
Within my voiceless world, yet His sunlight streams
Upon my barren fields, and in its beams
My soul finds warmth and gladness. Lo he gives
Unto life’s shadow fancy bright, who weaves
Athwart it sombre warp an iris woof
Of picture fair, loved voice, and laughter gay:
So glide, not sadly, the still years away
While yet I wait the end, alone, aloof.