Oft in the starry middle night
I vex my heart in vain,
To set its mystic music right,
And find the hidden strain.
To-night the summer moon is strong,
The little clouds drift past,—
The wonder is too deep for song —
The silence speaks at last.
“Thou canst not match those harmonies
On moon-enamoured lute,
Serenely silent arch the skies,
And the great stars are mute;
“Thou canst not tune to thine unrest
Their solemn calm above;
In silence thou shalt worship best,
And reverently love.
“Beyond this night in which thou art,
There is a voice of spheres,
Which the eternal in thine heart
Remembers and reveres.
“But how they sing in unison
Earth’ s ear hath never heard,
So only in thine heart rings on
The song that has no word.”