WHEN the dumb Hour, clothed in black, Brings the Dreams about my bed, Call me not so often back, Silent Voices of the dead, Toward the lowland ways behind me, And the sunlight that is gone! Call me rather, silent voices, Forward to the starry track Glimmering up the heights beyond me On, and always on! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SCILLA'S METAMORPHOSIS: MELANCHOLY by THOMAS LODGE THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT by JOHN GODFREY SAXE HERITAGE by THERESA VIRGINIA BEARD NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 21 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT TAKE YOUR CHOICE: ACCORDING TO FRANKLIN P. ADAMS by BERTON BRALEY BOAR'S HILL; OCTOBER, 1919 by VERA MARY BRITTAIN KING AND PEOPLE by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB CLEVEDON VERSES: 8. THE BRISTOL CHANNEL by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |