Did I dream of a song? or sing in a dream? Why ask when the night only knoweth? The night -- and the angel of sleep! But ever since then a music deep, Like a stream thro' a shadow-land, floweth Under each thought of my spirit that groweth Into the blossom and bloom of speech -- Under each fancy that cometh and goeth -- Wayward, as waves when evening breeze bloweth Out of the sunset and into the beach. And is it a wonder I wept to-day? For I mused and thought, but I cannot say If I dreamed of a song, or sang in a dream. In the silence of sleep, and the noon of night; And now -- even now -- 'neath the words I write, The flush of the dream or the flow of the song -- I cannot tell which -- moves strangely along. But why write more? I am puzzled sore: Did I dream of a song? or sing in a dream? Ah! hush, heart! hush! 'tis of no avail; The words of earth are a darksome veil, The poet weaves it with artful grace; Lifts it off from his thoughts at times, Lets it rustle along his rhymes, But gathers it close, covering the face Of ev'ry thought that must not part From out the keeping of his heart. St. Mary's Back to where the roses rest Round a shrine of holy name, (Yes -- they knew me when I came) More of peace and less of fame Suit my restless heart the best. Back to where long quiets brood, Where the calm is never stirred By the harshness of a word, But instead the singing bird Sweetens all my solitude. With the birds and with the flowers Songs and silences unite, From the morning unto night; And somehow a clearer light Shines along the quiet hours. God comes closer to me here -- Back of ev'ry rose leaf there He is hiding -- and the air Thrills with calls to holy prayer; Earth grows far, and heaven near. Every single flower is fraught With the very sweetest dreams, Under clouds or under gleams Changeful ever -- yet meseems On each leaf I read God's thought. Still, at times, as place of death, Not a sound to vex the ear, Yet withal it is not drear; Better for the heart to hear, Far from men -- God's gentle breath. Where men clash, God always clings: When the human passes by, Like a cloud from summer sky, God so gently draweth nigh, And the brightest blessings brings. List! e'en now a wild bird sings, And the roses seem to hear Every note that thrills my ear, Rising to the heavens clear, And my soul soars on its wings Up into the silent skies Where the sunbeams veil the star, Up -- beyond the clouds afar, Where no discords ever mar, Where rests peace that never dies. So I live within the calm, And the birds and roses know That the days that come and go Are as peaceful as the flow Of a prayer beneath a psalm. De Profundis