REST
Often I have listened curiously
To the sound of a simple word
All seemed to know,
And wondered why I could not find
Its meaning.
Often I have dreamed
Of that great Nothingness,
That Silence which shall come,
And asked if that
Were rest.
To the unquiet sea
I have gone down
Seeking companionship,
Calling out to the beating waves
“Do you too ask for rest?”
Of the wind and the rain
Singing their requiem
Over dead summer
I have asked,
“You will be quiet soon;
Where do you find rest?”
To the white moon
Sailing serenely
I have said,
“You are dim and old and cold;
Have you found rest?”
To the eternal sun
Uprising solemnly
I have cried out,
“And this new day you bring,
Will it hold my rest?”
Once to my heart tumultuous
There came a gleaming,
A far prophecy that like a fairy benison descending
Gave answer to my questioning—
Strange message lit with wonderment—
“Deep in the city’s labyrinthine heart
There shall be moonlight for us and white song.”
So ran the words,
And like a diapason of sweet sound
Across the stillness,
Echoing, profound,
There crept the promise,—rest.
And then—you came.
I turned to find your hand, your arms, your breast.
Deep in the city’s labyrinthine heart
You held me close, at rest.