Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE SILENT SINGER, by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: All sudden she hath ceased to sing Last Line: She mutely pities us. Alternate Author Name(s): Johnson Of Boone, Benj. F. Subject(s): Death; Love; Singing & Singers; Trees; Dead, The | ||||||||
ALL sudden she hath ceased to sing, Hushed in eternal slumbering, And we make moan that she is dead. -- Nay; peace! be comforted. Between her singing and her tears She pauses, listening -- and she hears The Song we can not hear. -- And thus She mutely pities us. Could she speak out, we doubt not she Would turn to us full tenderly, And in the old melodious voice Say: "Weep not, but rejoice." Ay, musical as waters run In woodland rills through shade and sun, The sweet voice would flow on and say, -- "Be glad with me to-day. -- "Your Earth was very dear and fair to me -- the groves and grasses there; The bursting buds and blossoms -- O I always loved them so! -- "The very dews within them seemed Reflected by mine eyes and gleamed Adown my cheeks in what you knew As 'tears,' and not as dew. "Your birds, too, in the orchard-boughs -- I could not hear them from the house, But I must leave my work and stray Out in the open day "And the illimitable range Of their vast freedom -- always strange And new to me -- It pierced my heart With sweetness as a dart! -- "The singing! singing! singing! -- All The trees bloomed blossoms musical That chirped and trilled in colors till My whole soul seemed to fill "To overflow with music, so That I have found me kneeling low Midst the lush grass, with murmurous words Thanking the flowers and birds. "So with the ones to me most dear -- I loved them, as I love them Here: Bear with my memory, therefore, As when in days of yore, "O friends of mine, ye praised the note Of some song, quavering from my throat Out of the overstress of love And all the pain thereof. "And ye, too, do I love with this Same love -- and Heaven knows all it is, -- The birds' song in it -- bud and bloom -- The turf, but not the tomb." Between her singing and her tears She pauses, listening -- and she hears The Song we can not hear. -- And thus She mutely pities us. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRIEND KILLED IN THE WAR by ANTHONY HECHT FOR JAMES MERRILL: AN ADIEU by ANTHONY HECHT TARANTULA: OR THE DANCE OF DEATH by ANTHONY HECHT CHAMPS D?ÇÖHONNEUR by ERNEST HEMINGWAY NOTE TO REALITY by TONY HOAGLAND A BOY'S MOTHER by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY |
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