Dear Nurse of Thought, calm chaos-brooding dove,
Thee, Silence, well I love;
Mother of Fancy, friend and sister mine,
Silence, my heart is thine.

Rarer than Eloquence, and sweeter far
Thy dulcet pauses are;
Stronger than Music, charm she ne'er so well,
Is, Silence, thy soft spell.

The rushing crystals throb about my brain,
And thrill, and shoot again,--
Their teeming imagery crowds my sphere,
If Silence be but here.

Bodily rest is Sleep, the soothing sleep,
Spirit-rest, Silence deep;
O daily Discord, cease, for mercy, cease!
Break not this happy peace.

The melodies within alone are heard,
By their own stillness stirr'd;
O mute, and motionless,-- O death of strife,
O precious lull in life!

Now know I how Pygmalion's spirit stern
Could on a statue yearn,--
The hush'd, the beautiful, the calmly fair,
The marble Silence there!