The Voice Of Day

Dumb day, oh, tongueless day!
Yet ever speaking; ye may not deny me,
For mine eyes are open. Yea,
I see not only the field and its robe,
But the lights and shadows, aye, and feel
The tender smiting of small sounds
Like a lovering touch upon me.
I am a consorter with the hours.
I know them like graces, dancing,
And their cloth and their nakedness,
And their movements enticing.
Yea, I am a fellow with men. Give me
A man's hand, and I possess his heart;
Give me a man's heart, and I know his soul.
Dumb day! Tongueless day!
I am familiar with thy utterances,
And their whisper is written within my heart.