Thy Voice

Thy voice is in the sea's voice, when it makes
A melancholy music to the beach.
Thy voice is in the winds, when birds beseech
The twilight time with song. The stream that takes
Its way from out the hill by flowery brakes,
Has in its tones the sweetness of thy speech:
At night — when all is still, and fliint sounds reach
The ear of one who, having slept, awakes

Full of his dream — thy voice floats through the night,
In music sad, as Autumn winds that blow
'Mid yellowing woods in the sun's waning light,
Compassionate, persistent, clear, and low.
And, when the "world is fading out of sight,
Thy voice shall whisper peace, and bid me go.