I am tired to-night, and I miss you, And long for you, love, through tears; And it seems but to-day that I saw you go-- You, who have been gone for years. And I seem to be newly lonely-- I, who am so much alone; And the strings of my heart are well in tune, But they have not the same old tone. I am tired; and that old sorrow Sweeps down the bed of my soul, As a turbulent river might suddenly break way from a dam's control. It beareth a wreck on its bosom, A wreck with a snow-white sail; And the hand on my heart strings thrums away, But they only respond with a wail. [Illustration: "THE BURDEN OF DEAR HUMAN TIES"] [Illustration:] THE SPEECH OF SILENCE. The solemn Sea of Silence lies between us; I know thou livest, and thou lovest me, And yet I wish some white ship would come sailing Across the ocean, bearing word from thee. The dead calm awes me with its awful stillness. No anxious doubts or fears disturb my breast; I only ask some little wave of language, To stir this vast infinitude of rest. I am oppressed with this great sense of loving; So much I give, so much receive from thee; Like subtle incense, rising from a censer, So floats the fragrance of thy love round me. All speech is poor, and written words unmeaning; Yet such I ask, blown hither by some wind, To give relief to this too perfect knowledge, The Silence so impresses on my mind. How poor the love that needeth word or message, To banish doubt or nourish tenderness! I ask them but to temper love's convictions The Silence all too fully doth express. Too deep the language which the spirit utters; Too vast the knowledge which my soul hath stirred. Send some white ship across the Sea of Silence, And interrupt its utterance with a word. [Illustration:] [Illustration:] CONVERSION. I have lived this life as the skeptic lives it; I have said the sweetness was less than the gall; Praising, nor cursing, the Hand that gives it, I have drifted aimlessly through it all. I have scoffed at the tale of a so-called heaven; I have laughed at the thought of a Supreme Friend; I have said that it only to man was given To live, to endure; and to die was the end. But I know that a good God reigneth, Generous-hearted and kind and true; Since unto a worm like me he deigneth To send so royal a gift as you. Bright as a star you gleam on my bosom, Sweet as a rose that the wild bee sips; And I know, my own, my beautiful blossom, That none but a God could mould such lips.