O WORDS as clear as are the dawn sky-rifts
Between the still cloud-layers, and eke as sweet
As violets are, looking through crystal dew,
And with such melody as birds may have
That sing the morning notes where peace and joy
Are mingled all, and every thought is still —
O Words, ye come to me, a toiler here
With life-blood hurrying thro' imperilled veins,
Ye come as from a heaven, a heaven on earth,
Wherein (I know not when) ye were mine too!
Ah me, clear Words, sweet Words melodious,
Too long an unknown tongue are ye to me,
A tongue unknown too long for peace and joy.
No heaven on earth, but ever earth on heaven
I pile and dwindle piling. Pass away;
For I can linger not, nor ease my toil —
Away, and leave me with the dreadful night
And all the sadness of the voiceless stars!