When silence spoke, it called thy tender name,
And in that hush, my heart began to bloom;
Thy shadow danced upon the candle’s flame,
And turned the lonesome night to sweet perfume.

The moon grew pale beneath thy subtle gaze,
As though it feared thy beauty’s quiet might;
I lost my self within that mystic maze,
Where soul meets soul beyond both dark and light.

O gentle muse, thy breath became my creed,
Thy sorrow taught my pen to bleed in rhyme;
For what is love but sanctified by need,
And purified by endless run of time?

If thou art gone, then still I love thee true—
For silence spoke—and all it said was you.