When some beloved voice that was to you
    Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly,
    And silence, against which you dare not cry,
    Aches round you like a strong disease and new
    What hope? what help? what music will undo
    That silence to your sense? Not friendship's sigh,
    Not reason's subtle count; not melody
    Of viols, nor of pipes that Faunus blew;
    Not songs of poets, nor of nightingales
    Whose hearts leap upward through the cypress-trees
    To the clear moon; nor yet the spheric laws
    Self-chanted, nor the angels' sweet 'All hails,'
    Met in the smile of God: nay, none of these.
    Speak thou, availing Christ! and fill this pause.


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