| I HAVE known the silence of the stars and of the sea, | |
| And the silence of the city when it pauses, | |
| And the silence of a man and a maid, | |
| And the silence for which music alone finds the word, | |
| And the silence of the woods before the winds of spring begin, | 5 |
| And the silence of the sick | |
| When their eyes roam about the room. | |
| And I ask: For the depths | |
| Of what use is language? | |
| A beast of the field moans a few times | 10 |
| When death takes its young. | |
| And we are voiceless in the presence of realities— | |
| We cannot speak. | |
| |
| A curious boy asks an old soldier | |
| Sitting in front of the grocery store, | 15 |
| "How did you lose your leg?" | |
| And the old soldier is struck with silence, | |
| Or his mind flies away | |
| Because he cannot concentrate it on Gettysburg. | |
| It comes back jocosely | 20 |
| And he says, "A bear bit it off." | |
| And the boy wonders, while the old soldier | |
| Dumbly, feebly lives over | |
| The flashes of guns, the thunder of cannon, | |
| The shrieks of the slain, | 25 |
| And himself lying on the ground, | |
| And the hospital surgeons, the knives, | |
| And the long days in bed. | |
| But if he could describe it all | |
| He would be an artist. | 30 |
| But if he were an artist there would he deeper wounds | |
| Which he could not describe. | |
| |
| There is the silence of a great hatred, | |
| And the silence of a great love, | |
| And the silence of a deep peace of mind, | 35 |
| And the silence of an embittered friendship, | |
| There is the silence of a spiritual crisis, | |
| Through which your soul, exquisitely tortured, | |
| Comes with visions not to be uttered | |
| Into a realm of higher life. | 40 |
| And the silence of the gods who understand each other without speech, | |
| There is the silence of defeat. | |
| There is the silence of those unjustly punished; | |
| And the silence of the dying whose hand | |
| Suddenly grips yours. | 45 |
| There is the silence between father and son, | |
| When the father cannot explain his life, | |
| Even though he be misunderstood for it. | |
| |
| There is the silence that comes between husband and wife. | |
| There is the silence of those who have failed; | 50 |
| And the vast silence that covers | |
| Broken nations and vanquished leaders. | |
| There is the silence of Lincoln, | |
| Thinking of the poverty of his youth. | |
| And the silence of Napoleon | 55 |
| After Waterloo. | |
| And the silence of Jeanne d'Arc | |
| Saying amid the flames, "Blesséd Jesus"— | |
| Revealing in two words all sorrow, all hope. | |
| And there is the silence of age, | 60 |
| Too full of wisdom for the tongue to utter it | |
| In words intelligible to those who have not lived | |
| The great range of life. | |
| |
| And there is the silence of the dead. | |
| If we who are in life cannot speak | 65 |
| Of profound experiences, | |
| Why do you marvel that the dead | |
| Do not tell you of death? | |
| Their silence shall be interpreted | |
| As we approach them. | 70 |
