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Uttered in movements manifold, and swift Clear smiles that flashed across the face of
things Like sudden sunbeams of divine delight,A world of many sorrows too, made known In fading flowers, and withering leaves, and
dark Tear-laden clouds, and tearless, clinging mists That hung above the earth too sad to weep, – A world of fluent change, and changeless flow, And infinite suggestion of new thoughts, Reflected in the mirror of the heart With shifting colours and dissolving forms, From dark to light and back again to dark, A world of many meanings but no words: A silent world was Vera's home.
For her The hidden doors of sound were shut and sealed. The outer portals, delicate as shells, Suffused with faintest rose of far-off morn, Like underglow of daybreak in the sea, The ear-gates of the garden of her soul,
Shaded by drooping tendrils of brown hair,
She saw the great wind ranging freely down
their hands; But all was still.
The torrents from the hills Leaped down their rocky stairways, like wild
steeds Breaking the yoke and shaking manes of foam. The lowland brooks coiled smoothly through
the fields, And softly spread themselves in glistening lakes Whose ripples merrily danced among the reeds. The standing waves that never change their
Silent the actors all on Nature's stage Performed their parts before her watchful eyes, Coming and going, making war and love,
Working and playing, all without a sound.
fold, In mute obedience. Down the unseen track The hounds, with panting sides and lolling
tongues, Pursued their flying prey with noiseless haste. The birds, the most alive of living things, The quickest to respond to joy and fear, Found mates, and built their nests, and reared
their young, And waged their mimic strifes, and flashed
All these were Vera's playmates, and she loved To watch them, wondering oftentimes how well They knew their parts, and how the drama
So swiftly, smoothly on from scene to scene Without confusion. But she sometimes
dreamed There must be something hidden in the play Unknown to her, an utterance of life More clear than action and more deep than
looks. And this she felt most surely when she watched Her human comrades and the throngs of men. They met and parted oft with moving lips That seemed to mean far more than she could
see. No deed of anger or of tenderness Could bring such sudden changes to the face, Could work such magical effects in life, As those same dumbly-moving lips. She saw A lover bend above a maid beloved With moving lips, and, though he touched her
not, Her cheeks bloomed roses and her eyes flashed
light. She saw a hater stand before his foe And move his lips; whereat the other shrank As if he had been smitten on the mouth. She saw great regiments of toiling men