Silence Sings
SO faint, no ear is sure it hears,
So faint and far;
So vast that very near appears
My voice, both here and in each star
Unmeasured leagues do bridge between;
Like that which on a face is seen
Where secrets are;
Sweeping, like veils of lofty balm,
Tresses unbound
O'er desert sand, o'er ocean calm,
I am wherever is not sound;
And, goddess of the truthful face,
My beauty doth instill its grace
That joy abound.
poem by Thomas Sturge Moore
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Related quotes
Urania's Lover.
O poet, thou art called to tread her ways,
Hers, mistress of the soul, Urania fair.
(Ah God! how fair, how all adorable,
But those who have wooed her can tell!)
All of thy nights and days,
All of thy light and air,
Hers only, so thy soul shall haply win
Grace in those eyes
That goddess-wise
Smile in that heaven man's highest have enter'd in.
Thou'rt called to Love's high hest, soul-wooer thou
Of the divinest beauty man may know —
Soul-wooer and soul-winner, so thy feet
Fail not nor falter, so earth's cheat
Clip not thy burning brow
With its chill wreath, and so
Darken the heavenly light within the brain;
But let thy forehead be
Starred with pure poesy,
So thou to her high mystery attain.
Thy love a Goddess and her heaven thy home!
By the ethereal beauty in those eyes,
O poet! bless the loss of all things here
So but thy soul in that fine sphere,
Beloved of her, may roam
No more with wandering cries —
At last may bow before her face, and be,
Though woman-born, divine,
When all of hers is thine,
And thou a star of God's ascendency.
Ah! through that heaven shall not the wonder trail
Of thy first worship, like a comet's hair
Leagues on leagues floating from the flying star?
Shall not thy first faint steps afar
Move like a being pale
Amid the glory there
Up to the voiceless beauty of her brow,
As thou dost see, as 'twere,
Thy whole life with her there —
See from that height the depth where thou art now?
poem by Robert Crawford
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An Indian Love Song
He
Lift up the veils that darken the delicate moon
of thy glory and grace,
Withhold not, O love, from the night
of my longing the joy of thy luminous face,
Give me a spear of the scented keora
guarding thy pinioned curls,
Or a silken thread from the fringes
that trouble the dream of thy glimmering pearls;
Faint grows my soul with thy tresses' perfume
and the song of thy anklets' caprice,
Revive me, I pray, with the magical nectar
that dwells in the flower of thy kiss.
She
How shall I yield to the voice of thy pleading,
how shall I grant thy prayer,
Or give thee a rose-red silken tassel,
a scented leaf from my hair?
Or fling in the flame of thy heart's desire the veils that cover my face,
Profane the law of my father's creed for a foe
of my father's race?
Thy kinsmen have broken our sacred altars and slaughtered our sacred kine,
The feud of old faiths and the blood of old battles sever thy people and mine.
He
What are the sins of my race, Beloved,
what are my people to thee?
And what are thy shrines, and kine and kindred,
what are thy gods to me?
Love recks not of feuds and bitter follies,
of stranger, comrade or kin,
Alike in his ear sound the temple bells
and the cry of the muezzin.
For Love shall cancel the ancient wrong
and conquer the ancient rage,
Redeem with his tears the memoried sorrow
that sullied a bygone age.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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Ode To The Voices in the Wind
Voices in the wind so silent
But thou art so triumphant
With a divine hand you create sunlight
By the way you walk in the twilight
Darkness falls in a waterfall of sound
But in truth you never drowned
Hark the voice in the scarce crowd
Whom the voice is proud
Of the luck that commands your strife
Your treasures include a knife
You’re the shinning star of beauty
Others shone mutely
You seek a quiet room where life can roam
In a dress of pale silk you return home
Power, Providence and Prejudice you destroy all
Your strides bring Peace, Pleasure and Pride for those you call
Your home is a quiet place, a cottage on a riverbank
But then you’re a Goddess with no need for rank
You ride an ocean of clarity and beauty which is you
Like a queen you command a battalion, which is true
Thou art but a child, but your love diminishes war
A child and Goddess as one you will soar
I was told all this by one person more
A voice in a wind was all I saw.
There are voices in the wind said the God
But to your face all I could do was nod
poem by James Davies
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Face Of Love
Until tonight
My heart was just half full
Id never known the fruit which fed the soul
But now I see what may put to rest my longing
For I have seen, the face of love
The grace of god, the face of love
In silence I feared my heart
Would remain words unheard
Inside a seperate mess of skin
But now I know that the skin just veils the soul
For I have seen, the face of love
The grace of god, the face of love
So take my hand and knowing
With it I also give my heart
Wanting to never be seperate again
Let eternity begin
If you were flame
Id allow myself to be consumed completely
Were you wind Id wish you to pass through me
But now I know that the skin just veils the soul
For I have seen, the face of love
The grace of god, the face of love
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Under the Figtree
Like drifts of balm from cedared glens, those darling memories come,
With soft low songs, and dear old tales, familiar to our home.
Then breathe again that faint refrain, so tender, sad, and true,
My soul turns round with listening eyes unto the harp and you!
The fragments of a broken Past are floating down the tide,
And she comes gleaming through the dark, my love, my life, my bride!
Oh! sit and sing — I know her well, that phantom deadly fair
With large surprise, and sudden sighs, and streaming midnight hair!
I know her well, for face to face we stood amongst the sheaves,
Our voices mingling with a mist of music in the leaves!
I know her well, for hand in hand we walked beside the sea,
And heard the huddling waters boom beneath this old Figtree.
God help the man that goes abroad amongst the windy pines,
And wanders, like a gloomy bat, where never morning shines!
That steals about amidst the rout of broken stones and graves,
When round the cliffs the merry skiffs go scudding through the waves;
When, down the bay, the children play, and scamper on the sand,
And Life and Mirth illume the Earth, and Beauty fills the Land!
God help the man! He only hears and fears the sleepless cries
Of smitten Love — of homeless Love and moaning Memories.
Oh! when a rhyme of olden time is sung by one so dear,
I feel again the sweetest pain I’ve known for many a year;
And from a deep, dull sea of sleep faint fancies come to me,
And I forget how lone we sit beneath this old Figtree.
poem by Henry Kendall
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After our Likeness.
Before me now a little picture lies—
A little shadow of a childish face,
Childishly sweet, yet with the dawning grace
Of thought and wisdom on her lips and eyes.
Fair, oval, broad-brow'd face—small, delicate head—
Transparent skin, with blue veins shining through—
All the soft outlines, beautiful and true,
Bring me the echo of the words “God said.”
Made “in our image”—sure 'tis that we see,
God's likeness, in the fair face of a child,
By the world's sin and passion undefiled—
Ay, as I look, it seems quite plain to me.
The light wherein the little features shine,
Strange, mystic light, so undefined and faint,
So far too pure for any words to paint—
'Tis a reflection of the Face divine.
Some day the earthly shadows will be cast
Across that sunshine—it may be to dim
A while the visible countenance of Him;
But 'twill be there—the likeness—to the last.
Some day the lucid waters, in which lie
Pictured those glorious lineaments, will be
Stirred up and troubled like a stormy sea;—
But they will yet re-settle—by-and-by.
They will re-settle when the soul is still'd,
Its passions, its wild longings, and its pain;
The pure reflection will shine out again
When earth's hopes are relinquish'd, unfulfill'd.
They will re-settle in those after-years
When life's hard lessons have been conned and learn'd;
Then this child's beauty will have all return'd,
More lovely for the trouble and the tears.
They will re-settle in the calm of death,
When the sweet eyes are laid asleep, and when
The heart is hush'd. Truly God's likeness then—
The mirror clear, unsullied by a breath.
Ah! while I look, and trace each tender line,
I think most of the day when I shall see
The dear face in that perfect purity,
Its mortal features clothed with the divine.
This self-same face, but with the image bright,
Nevermore undefined, and faint, and dim;
This self-same face, yet like the face of Him,
In glory and in beauty infinite.
poem by Ada Cambridge
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My inspiration (the music)
so many secrets I’ve long to share
between spaces and lines
the beating of the rhythm
as to flat and sharp appears in time...
without you I have sleepless nights
without you I have lonely days
without you my life is incomplete
without you I have no lover-friend...
you are the only one who understands me
the one who hears me
the only one who accepts me as i
in the melodious sound of voice...
you are the inspiration of my heart
the protector of my loneliness
the idol of my desire
music…my inspiration of life....
poem by Lady Grace
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Egypt
Fantastic sleep is busy with my eyes;
I seem in some waste solitude to stand
Once ruled of Cheops; upon either hand
A dark illimitable desert lies,
Sultry and still -- a zone of mysteries.
A wide-browed Sphinx, half buried in the sand,
With orbless sockets stares across the land,
The wofulest thing beneath these brooding skies
Save that loose heap of bleachèd bones, that lie
Where haply some poor Bedouin crawled to die.
Lo! while I gaze, beyond the vast sand-sea
The nebulous clouds are downward slowly drawn,
And one bleared star, faint glimmering like a bee,
Is shut in the rosy outstretched hand of Dawn.
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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The Metaphor Of The Mirror And The Light
there is this face
in the mirror and it is talking to the body
to remind its skin
that it is real,
lights are turned off
and the face only hears a voice
from its mouth
it is assured still that it is a face
of someone it knew
so well
and will not deny it
the voice faded in darkness
and the face
hears nothing
and sees nothing about
its skin
and eyes
it is dark
and there is no voice anymore
except the
silence
and the loneliness that is about
to make a scream
to the mirror
that had long shut itself
because there is no light
the face demands a voice
the mirror begs for light
for the voice is a security
that life exists
and the light is the only
anchor of the mirror
when it becomes a boat
in the sea
of emptiness
but there is no light
and there is no voice
the mirror breaks the silence
the face becomes the wind
there is no boat
much less an anchor
there is only a word written
on paper
left on the floor
and it is spoken for no
one....
poem by Sebastian Soberania
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With Time Your Voice Grew Faint
With time your voice grew faint
as if it wants to disappear forever
and sometimes you still appear in dreams
as if you are only daring it at night
and then for moments visits me
as if you are longing for the land where the sun shines.
With time your voice grew faint
as if it wants to disappear forever
and this nightly meeting
I sometimes really want
and sometimes I want to avoid it,
as it again brings pain;
with time your voice grew faint
as if it wants to disappear forever.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Abounding Grace
Calm and slow with God I am sure, through this trial I will endure,
As God is with me in this trial, He shall strengthen me, no denial,
Through hardship, whatever I face, God will supply ample Grace,
Grace that’s unlimited friend, all from my God, beginning to end.
Indeed, God’s Grace will abound, this while I face another round,
Another round while in this race, comforted by unyielding Grace,
God’s Grace provided from above, as He leads me, in His Love,
Through yet another trying day, providing comfort along the way.
With His Spirit He keeps me calm, knowing that I am in His Palm,
In God’s grip and there to stay, He helps me through day to day;
God helps me through every turn, as His Spirit helps me to learn,
To lean upon The Lord through all, that’s in any trial, big or small.
Through God’s Grace I find peace, when my trial does not cease,
When my trials are wearisome, the Peace of God’s sure to come,
Always calming to my weary soul, knowing that God is in control,
In every trial or circumstance, God’s Grace comes not by chance.
God’s Grace comes just in time, never by chance but His design,
Dispensed, right from His Throne, as The Lord cares for His own;
His Loving Grace I first received, the moment in Christ, I believed,
His presence shall leave me never, as God’s Love abides forever.
(05/2011)
The Bridge To Love
Across the bridge there was a girl
I used to watch each day.
She sat alone and never looked,
never glanced my way.
Her beauty was a rare delight
I did not want to miss.
And so I sat and imagined
that we two could kiss.
But lacking courage to approach
I held back and I viewed
that at the same hour every day
something would change her mood.
A woman came to help her stand
and led her from the bridge.
She seemed unhappy as she left
surrounded by green foliage.
One night I gathered all my thoughts
and knew that I would cross
the bridge to where she sat all day
so I'd not feel the loss,
The loss of so much beauty now
that bravery was with me.
And as I crossed she heard my sound.
She looked but could not see.
I placed my hand upon her cheek,
so soft it was to touch.
I hummed a tune which made her smile
and though it was not much
it warmed our hearts, both hers and mine
and so it was we'd meet
everyday upon the bridge
in manner so discreet.
As I look back upon those days
I remember our first kiss.
She touched my face with both her hands
and then there was sweet bliss.
We married and we found a love
that lasted many years.
I lost her not too long ago
and think back on her tears.
For she was always beautiful,
a beauty with such grace
that all she ever wanted was
to see my loving face.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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That Secret Meeting...
a voice faint coming from the valleys of the heart
the whistle of the boy from beneath the barns of
youth memories surging like flowers lotus unfolding
on the ponds of solitude
the voice joins with the other voices from the desert
places of the lonely hearts
(how many? finally there are many like sands slipping from
a crevice of profanity)
a choir of singing scenes, mountains and hills under the fog
and mist, trails winding, and trees like broccoli on the
backyard of abandoned women
the sun comes out in splendor
rain showers faint like a smile of the shy maiden
a rainbow slices the spheres
between us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Veils
Veils, everywhere float veils; veils long and black,
Framing white faces, oft-times young and fair,
But, like a rose touched by untimely frost,
Showing the blighting marks of sorrow's track.
Veils, veils, veils everywhere. They tell the cost
Of man-made war. They show the awful toll
Paid by the hearts of women for the crimes,
The age-old crimes by selfishness ill-named
'Justice' and 'Honour' and 'The call of Fate'-
High words men use to hide their low estate.
About the joy and beauty of this world
A long black veil is furled.
Even the face of Heaven itself seems lost
Behind a veil. It takes a fervent soul
In these tense times
To visualise a God so long defamed
By insolent lips, that send out prayers, and prate
Of God's collaboration in dark deeds,
So foul they put to shame the fiends of hell.
Yet One
does
dwell
In Secret Centres of the Universe-
The Mighty Maker; and He hears and heeds
The still small voice of soulful, selfless faith;
And He is lifting now the veil of death,
So long down-dropped between those worlds and earth.
Yea! He is giving faith a great new birth
By letting echoes from the hidden places
Where dwell our dead, fall on love's listening ear.
Hearken, and you shall hear
The messages which come from those star-spaces!
That is the reason why
God let so many die;
That the vast hordes of suffering hearts might wake
Mighty vibrations, and the silence break
Between the neighbouring worlds, and lift the veil
'Twixt life on earth, and life Beyond. All hail
To great Jehovah, Who has given life
Eternal, everlasting, after strife!
Veils, long black veils, you shall be bridal white.
Eyes, blind with tears, you shall receive your sight,
And see your dead alive in Worlds of Light.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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the symbolism that you gave to the poems of Pablo Neruda
your feet hangs on the sand
your body flat
the poems of Pablo are contained in a book
Five Decades of Poetry
on top of your belly just near the center of
your swimming trunks
wet and white
your navel is surrounded by masculine hair
and the book slides just below there
beside is a dark tainted glass
and a bottle of mineral water from Nature Springs
your feet are shaped like the wings of a dove
shielding you from the faint horizon of the sea quite far away
blue clouds faint like hues of sky blue
Half of your body without a face
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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With My Beloved
With my Beloved I alone have been,
When secrets tenderer than evening airs
Passed, and the Vision blest
Was granted to my prayers,
That crowned me, else obscure, with endless fame;
The while amazed between
His Beauty and His Majesty
I stood in silent ecstasy
Revealing that which o'er my spirit went and came.
Lo, in His face commingled
Is every charm and grace;
The whole of Beauty singled
Into a perfect face
Beholding Him would cry,
'There is no God but He, and He is the most High.'
poem by Rabia al Basri
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House Of Salome
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Shadows run in the heat of the desert
Hands beat at the door
Someone stands and calls
For the name of salome
As the veils were pushed away
He gazed upon a face
Hed never seen
Was she a dream ?
He heard the sound from a distance voice
Youd better watch out!
Youd better watch out!
He heard the sound from a thousand years
Calling out
Calling out
In the house of salome
You have to surrender
Run with her said the young handmaiden
She will be your queen
All your life youll live
In the dream of salome
Take her mouth and with your hands
Just kiss her painted lips
Dont you make a move
till salome calls you
As the music danced around the desert night
He smelt her perfumed skin
As they made love
He heard the sound of a distant voice
Youd better watch out!
Youd better watch out!
He heard the sound of a thousand years
Calling out
Calling out
In the house of salome
You have to surrender
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lover's Gifts XIII: Last Night in the Garden
Last night in the garden I offered you my youth's foaming wine. You
lifted the cup to your lips, you shut your eyes and smiled while
I raised your veil, unbound your tresses, drawing down upon my
breast your face sweet with its silence, last night when the moon's
dream overflowed the world of slumber.
To-day in the dew-cooled calm of the dawn you are walking to
God's temple, bathed and robed in white, with a basketful of
flowers in your hand. I stand aside in the shade under the tree,
with my head bent, in the calm of the dawn by the lonely road to
the temple.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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One Simple Motion
The house is dark again.
Music drifts,
softly settles
like dust
on my face.
Now is the time
when veils decline-
when I can see
the faint motion
of breath;
my chest rising and
falling, life expelled
and pulled sharply back:
living and dying
in one, simple
motion.
poem by Steven Federle
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Music
Music, like an ocean, often carries me away!
Through the ether far,
or under a canopy of mist, I set sail
for my pale star.
Breasting the waves, my lungs swollen
like a ship’s canvas,
night veils from me the long rollers,
I ride their backs:
I sense all a suffering vessel’s passions
vibrating within me:
while fair winds or the storm’s convulsions
on the immense deep
cradle me. Or else flat calm, vast mirror there
of my despair!
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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