O WORDS as clear as are the dawn sky-rifts br Between the still cloud-layers, and eke as sweet br As violets are, looking through crystal dew, br And with such melody as birds may have br That sing the morning notes where peace and joy br Are mingled all, and every thought is still — br O Words, ye come to me, a toiler here br With life-blood hurrying thro' imperilled veins, br Ye come as from a heaven, a heaven on earth, br Wherein (I know not when) ye were mine too! br Ah me, clear Words, sweet Words melodious, br Too long an unknown tongue are ye to me, br A tongue unknown too long for peace and joy. br No heaven on earth, but ever earth on heaven br I pile and dwindle piling.