Classic Poem

I heard through tears my tearless songs
Call each to each in woods of pain,
" Sweet rain — sweet rain — ! "

I said, if they can lift such notes
From such dark boughs, how they will sing
Love's blossoming!

How they will burst the buds of sound,
And match the sun's gold flowering,
How they will sing!

It is not so! It is not so!
There are no tunes for my hushed birds,
There are no words.

Love is the silence on God's lips,
To which my songs with folded wing
Lean listening.