The passion you forbade my lips to utter br Will not be silenced. You must hear it in br The sullen thunders when they roll and mutter: br And when the tempest nears, with wail and din, br I know your calm forgetfulness is broken, br And to your heart you whisper, 'He has spoken.' br br All nature understands and sympathises br With human passion. When the restless sea br Turns in its futile search for peace, and rises br To plead and to pursue, it pleads for me. br And with each desperate billow's anguished fretting. br Your heart must tell you, 'He is not forgetting.' br br When unseen hands in lightning strokes are writing br Mysterious words upon a cloudy scroll, br Know that my pent-up passion is inditing br A cypher message for your woman's soul; br And when the lawless winds rush by you shrieking, br Let your heart say, 'Now his despair is speaking.' br br Love comes, nor goes, at beck or call of reason, br Nor is love silent, though it says no word; br By day or night, in any clime or season, br A dominating passion must be heard. br So shall you hear, through Junes and through Decembers, br The voice of Nature saying, 'He remembers.