by Henry van Dyke
FROM the misty shores of midnight, touched with splendors of the moon,
To the singing tides of heaven, and the light more clear than noon,
Passed a soul that grew to music till it was with God in tune.
Brother of the greatest poets, true to nature, true to art;
Lover of Immortal Love, uplifter of the human heart,-
Who shall cheer us with high music, who shall sing, if thou depart?
Silence here-for love is silent, gazing on the lessening sail;
Silence here-for grief is voiceless when the mighty minstrels fail;
Silence here-but, far beyond us, many voices crying, Hail!
Last updated January 14, 2019