Silence

There is a sound to silence,
Like the touching of a quill.
And the far surge of an ocean,
If you listen very still.

Forever over skimming foam,
There's something like a song.
A noteless form of rhythm,
That bears a crowd along.

Like the tangled thoughts of humans,
Where a genius notion treads.
To the magic work of fairies,
That swing on gossamer threads.

There's a stairway leading upward,
To palatial halls on high.
Where angels stand in glory,
With white-birds going by.

For silence...is a golden clasp,
A prayer with hope engraven.
The insight of a humble heart,
That links the earth with heaven.


E.P. 1908 - 1989