We are together in the Silent Hours,
When dusk has furled its banners and the night
Is tremulous on the hilltop in a white
Illimitable halo of moonflowers.
For when the curtain of the twilight lowers;
And the dull eves are barren of delight,
My spirit falls dreaming and takes sudden flight
Into the realm of Silence. . . . Sweet, 'tis ours,
This fathomless region of commingling soul;—
Unfearful we partake of beauty's wine
And quaff with joyous lips the mute divine
Watching the glory of the stars unroll.
Yea, in the Silent Hours you come to me,
I breathe your voice. . . I touch you wonderingly.