In the hush of the Valley of Silence I dream all the songs that I sing; And the music floats down the dim Valley, Till each finds a word for a wing, That to hearts, like the Dove of the Deluge, A message of Peace they may bring. But far on the deep there are billows That never shall break on the beach; And I have heard songs in the Silence That never shall float into speech; And I have had dreams in the Valley Too lofty for language to reach. And I have seen Thoughts in the Valley -- Ah! me, how my spirit was stirred! And they wear holy veils on their faces, Their footsteps can scarcely be heard; They pass through the Valley like virgins, Too pure for the touch of a word! Do you ask me the place of the Valley, Ye hearts that are harrowed by Care? It lieth afar between mountains, And God and His angels are there: And one is the dark mount of Sorrow, And one the bright mountain of Prayer. Reverie ["Only a few more years!"] Only a few more years! Weary years! Only a few more tears! Bitter tears! And then -- and then -- like other men, I cease to wander, cease to weep, Dim shadows o'er my way shall creep; And out of the day and into the night, Into the dark and out of the bright I go, and Death shall veil my face, The feet of the years shall fast efface My very name, and every trace I leave on earth; for the stern years tread -- Tread out the names of the gone and dead! And then, ah! then, like other men, I close my eyes and go to sleep, Only a few, one hour, shall weep: Ah! me, the grave is dark and deep! Alas! Alas! How soon we pass! And ah! we go So far away; When go we must, From the light of Life, and the heat of strife, To the peace of Death, and the cold, still dust, We go -- we go -- we may not stay, We travel the lone, dark, dreary way; Out of the day and into the night, Into the darkness, out of the bright. And then, ah! then, like other men, We close our eyes and go to sleep; We hush our hearts and go to sleep; Only a few, one hour, shall weep: Ah! me, the grave is lone and deep! I saw a flower, at morn, so fair; I passed at eve, it was not there. I saw a sunbeam, golden bright, I saw a cloud the sunbeam's shroud, And I saw night Digging the grave of day; And day took off her golden crown, And flung it sorrowfully down. Ah! day, the Sun's fair bride! At twilight moaned and died. And so, alas! like day we pass: At morn we smile, At eve we weep, At morn we wake, In night we sleep. We close our eyes and go to sleep: Ah! me, the grave is still and deep!