'Out of the Night'
By George Sterling
Alas for words, O Sweet!
Shall these avail
To bear Love's wonder-tale
Or break the silence where his musics meet?
Oh! vast and strong and high
That harmony,
Like harps beside a sea
That foams forever to a quiet sky.
Darling, I cannot say
All that they told:
The mystic chords of gold
Are echoes now from very far away.
Yet would my sorrow tell
Its kin to thine,
Inclusively divine.
Ah! so a seraph bad found voice in hell!