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Silence envies all our words; she clings,
Forgotten, to edges, the corners: the fringe
Of all our speech; interrupting then and now
If only to retreat, backwards, with a scowl

Telling vengeance, and empty threats
Before ignominy and conversation set
These wheels of romance in their way:
These stolen looks, and glances away,
Those austere words we so softly say,

And now the wind has struck a tune
To which the trees are gently swaying;
Has hurled a note, has writ a noon
Stealing all the words that we are saying

And dumbly now, we gaze at each other
Watching heartbeats shiver and flutter:
Your hair is aloft, your eyes sapphire
O’er crimson lips, that set afire
Flame itself - till, devoured to ash,
We are made anew, our clay by ash

Purified, and made by trust sacrosanct:
Our temple anon, our canon and rank,
We the priests of orders rising,
We the gods of another’s sighing,

And dawn has found us clinging dear
To hopes and words unspoken here:
Silence, crowing in her victory,
Has ruled at last, and all our history
Is our past: what futures now we make
Will echo in our words of love;
And softly, slowly, far above,
Come the songs of angels above.

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