Poems (E. L. F.)/The language of silence

by E. L. F.

THE LANGUAGE OF SILENCE.

There's a silence that speaks in the deeply dark eye;
'Tis a soul-breathing eloquence lent from on high,
To picture those feelings, to language forbid,
As it droopingly bends 'neath the shadowy lid.

There's a silence that speaks in the mute falling tear;
Ah! it breathes deeper anguish, more sorrow sincere,
Than the voice of affliction, in love's deepest wail,
Did ever pour forth, the soft heart to assail.

There's a silence that speaks in the deep heart-felt sigh;
Ah! it echoes a mute half-concealed agony;
And the darkening shadows that flit o'er the brow,
Betoken the sunset of happiness now.

There's a silence that speaks in the varying smile:
Who hath not felt how the endearment, the wile,
That those vivid circles that o'er the lip play
With the light flash of lightning, our feelings portray!

There's a silence that speaks in the low hectic tinge,
And the brilliancy sparkling beneath the dark fringe;
And the throbs heard to beat in that fast-fading form,
Tell a far sadder tale than the lip could have borne.