Come, O Love, while the far stars whiten,
  Gathering, growing, momently; 
Thou, who art star of stars, to lighten
  One dim heart that waiteth thee. 

Speak, O Love, for the silence presses, 
   Bowing my spirit like a fear; 
Thou, whose words are as caresses, 
   Sweet, sole voice that I long to hear.  

From The Poems of Sophie Jewett (Thomas Y. Crowell & Co., 1910) by Sophie Jewett. Copyright © Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. This poem is in the public domain.