Silence - a sonnet
As introvert I must confess to be
A one who tends to shun the madding crowd,
And often in soft morning reverie
Enwrapped in sweetest silence can be found.
The Word that aptly lays upon our minds
Tall visions of the sweep of grandest deeds
May also, in the silence, choose to bind
Our hearts to stillest voice among the reeds.
Our souls may quake when Horeb’s thunder churns,
May look for hail and fire from the sky,
But then from cave of hiding may discern
The gentle sound of Heaven drawing nigh.
In silence and in solitude I wait
To hear those shuffling sandals at the gate.
As introvert I must confess to be
A one who tends to shun the madding crowd,
And often in soft morning reverie
Enwrapped in sweetest silence can be found.
The Word that aptly lays upon our minds
Tall visions of the sweep of grandest deeds
May also, in the silence, choose to bind
Our hearts to stillest voice among the reeds.
Our souls may quake when Horeb’s thunder churns,
May look for hail and fire from the sky,
But then from cave of hiding may discern
The gentle sound of Heaven drawing nigh.
In silence and in solitude I wait
To hear those shuffling sandals at the gate.
