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.