And we seem to catch their low replies
To the flowing waters forever talking.
We listen and question the fathomless space,
In the deeps of its emerald silence lying,
While we watch the leaves turning face to face,
And their lovers—the winds—wooing and sighing.
And still, like a dream, fades the dusty town,
And dumb on our ear dies its distant murmur;
But the speech, in the stilly air steals down,
And the fainting heart grows calmer and firmer.