I know that when the world surrenders, pallid, to repose, the murmur of a tranquil stream through the deep silence flows.

Once I reveled in a destiny like no other joy I'd known: when the warden - reading my death sentence - wept.

All is beautiful and unceasing, all is music and reason, and all, like diamond, is carbon first, then light.

Wings I saw springing from fair women's shoulders, and from beneath rubble I've seen butterflies flutter.

Elected Silence, sing to me And beat upon my whorled ear, Pipe me to pastures still and be The music that I care to hear.

Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, Where the winds are all asleep.

O golden Silence, bid our souls be still, And on the foolish fretting of our care Lay thy soft touch of healing unaware!