Since I lost you, I am silence-haunted;
Sounds wave their little wings
A moment, then in weariness settle
On the flood that soundless swings.
Whether the people in the street
Like pattering ripples go by,
Or whether the theatre sighs and sighs
With a loud, hoarse sigh:
Or the wind shakes a ravel of light
Over the dead-black river,
Or last night’s echoings
Make the daybreak shiver:
I feel the silence waiting
To sip them all up again,
In its last completeness drinking
Down the noise of men.