The muffled syllables that Nature speaks br Fill us with deeper longing for her word; br She hides a meaning that the spirit seeks, br She makes a sweeter music than is heard. br br A hidden light illumines all our seeing, br An unknown love enchants our solitude. br We feel and know that from the depths of being br Exhales an infinite, a perfect good. br br Though the heart wear the garment of its sorrow br And be not happy like a naked star, br Yet from the thought of peace some peace we borrow, br Some rapture from the rapture felt afar. br br Our heart strings are too coarse for Nature's fingers br Deftly to quicken as she pulses on, br And the harsh tremor that among them lingers br Will into sweeter silence die anon. br br We catch the broken prelude and suggestion br Of things unuttered, needing to be sung; br We know the burden of them, and their question br Lies heavy on the heart, nor finds a tongue. br br Till haply, lightning through the storm of ages, br Our sullen secret flash from sky to sky, br Glowing in some diviner poet's pages br And swelling into rapture from this sigh.