21.06.2007, 20:54
IX. A SILENT VOICE.
THEY bid me welcome in the proud New Year,
Crowned with delight, his Minister the Sun—
Monarch, whose sumptuous reign has just begun:
Nay, I am deaf—their shouts I do not hear—
I miss a voice that long ago was dear;
A tender voice, whose lightest call had won
My ear, my heart, my life, till life were done:—
That voice is silent—theirs I will not hear.
A little bird that finds the winter cold
Comes out, and looks at me, and sings of him
Who made the vanished summers warm; and, bold
With sorrow, calls the New Year's splendor dim.
Nay, bird, he is gone far who used to sing;
And days, and months, and years no message bring.
THEY bid me welcome in the proud New Year,
Crowned with delight, his Minister the Sun—
Monarch, whose sumptuous reign has just begun:
Nay, I am deaf—their shouts I do not hear—
I miss a voice that long ago was dear;
A tender voice, whose lightest call had won
My ear, my heart, my life, till life were done:—
That voice is silent—theirs I will not hear.
A little bird that finds the winter cold
Comes out, and looks at me, and sings of him
Who made the vanished summers warm; and, bold
With sorrow, calls the New Year's splendor dim.
Nay, bird, he is gone far who used to sing;
And days, and months, and years no message bring.