What is the saddest sweetest lowest sound
Nearest akin to perfect silence? Not
The delicate whisper sometimes in the hot
Autumnal morning heard the cornfields round;
Nor yet to lonely man, now almost bound
By slumber, near his house a murmuring river
Buzzing and droning o'er the stones for ever.
Not such faint voice of Autumn oat-encrown'd,
And not such liquid murmur, O my heart!
But tears that drop o'er graves, and sins, and fears,
A sound the very weeper scarcely hears,
A music in which silence hath some part.
--O Thou, all gentle, Who all-hearing art,
Hold not Thy peace, sweet Saviour, at my tears!