Originally published in Tinsley's Magazine (Tinsley Brothers) vol.1 #3 (Oct 1867).
What hearest thou?
I can hear hearts break—
One or two, here and there;
And cries to the dead, who cannot wake;
And prayers; but no answer to prayer.
Words that smite and sting;
Wrongs that can only weep;
And weak Truth wearily murmuring
As she tosses in her sleep.
Woe to thee! hast thou found
Nothing else under the sun?
The wheels of life go fiercely round;
But they bear the goddess on.
What hearest thou?
I can hear Earth shout
When Summer leaps from her lap;
Chains of song have girt her about,
And never a silent gap.
Tongues that whisper 'Rejoice!'
In the midst of passing woes;
And Love's triumphant voice
In every wind that blows.
Wings are upon thy feet,
And a trumpet fills thine ears;
Go on! thou hearest thine own heart beat,
And thou hast not time for tears.
What hearest thou?
I can hear what the cloud
Says when it kisses the hill;
I can hear the Future, restless and loud,
And the Past, reproachful and still;
And a world in the air that sends
Grand echoes to my frail lute.
They call me! I love you, friends;
But touch me not, and be mute.
True thy music, and fine;
But sweeter will it seem
If thou clasp the hand that touches thine,
Even though it break thy dream.
What hearest thou?
I can hear God speak,
And there seems no other sound,
Through clamour of tears, through shout and shriek,
As Life's fierce wheels go round.
Words I can hardly hear;
They are dark and faint and few:
One thing only the words make clear—
The thing that I must do.
Follow that Voice through the night;
Ask not where or how;
It once said, 'Let there be light;'
And the darkness waits for it now.