'Out of the Night'

By George Sterling

Alas for words, O Sweet!
        Shall these avail
    To bear Love's wonder-tale
Or break the silence where his musics meet?

Oh! vast and strong and high
        That harmony,
    Like harps beside a sea
That foams forever to a quiet sky.

Darling, I cannot say
        All that they told:
    The mystic chords of gold
Are echoes now from very far away.

Yet would my sorrow tell
        Its kin to thine,
    Inclusively divine.
Ah! so a seraph bad found voice in hell!

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