Until love sings
by Philip Fortune
Why do we build a silence round
The very things we have not found, but seek—
As if by mute omission meek
To charm our silent sound to speak?
We all desire a perfect love,
As pure as a summer-day dove flying—
Over those cold shadows lying
On each friend’s warmth, beyond crying.
Can we suppose our first caress
Is central to such happiness, as seems—
A mirrored sky on silvery streams
To simulate the Moon’s bright beams.
No more let silent wings beat still
Within; but freeing music, fill well-springs—
With every magic sound that brings
The mind to dreams, until love sings.