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AmyLowell:Dreams

I do not care to talk to you although

Your speech evokes a thousand sympathies,

And all my beings silent harmonies

Wake trembling into music. When you go

It is as if some sudden, dreadful blow

Had severed all the strings with savage ease.

No, do not talk; but let us rather seize

This intimate gift of silence which we know.

Others may guess your thoughts from what you say,

As storms are guessed from clouds where darkness broods.

To me the very essence of the day

Reveals its inner purpose and its moods;

As poplars feel the rain and then straightway

Reverse their leaves and shimmer through the woods.

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