Sorrow is hushed into peace in my heart like the evening among the silent trees.

       Some unseen fingers, like an idle breeze, are playing upon my heart the music of the ripples

     “ What language is thine, O sea? “

    “The language of eternal question.“

    “What language is thy answer, O sky?“

    “The language of eternal silence.“

      Listen, my heart, to the whispers of the world with which it makes love to you.

     There little thoughts are the rustle of leaves; they have their whisper of joy in my mind.

    We, the rustling leaves, have a voice that answers the storms, but who are you so silent?“

  “ I am a mere flower.“

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