Silence is more musical than any song.
O passing angel, speed me with a song, a melody of heaven to reach my heart and rouse me to the race and make me strong.
When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet: And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply I may forget.
Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang When life was sweet because you call’d them sweet?
Where are the songs I used to know, Where are the notes I used to sing? I have forgotten everything I used to know so long ago. ("The Key-Note")
When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me
I watched a rose-bud very long Brought on by dew and sun and shower, Waiting to see the perfect flower: Then when I thought it should be strong It opened at the matin hour And fell at even-song.
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