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Edward Rowland Sill (Эдвард Роулэнд Силл)


To the Unknown Soul


O SOUL, that somewhere art my very kin,
From dusk and silence unto thee I call!
I know not where thou dwellest: if within
A palace or a hut; if great or small
Thy state and store of fortune; if thou 'rt sad
This moment, or most glad;
The lordliest monarch or the lowest thrall.

But well I know --- since thou 'rt my counterpart ---
Thou bear'st a clouded spirit; full of doubt
And old misgiving, heaviness of heart
And lonliness of mind; long wearied out
With climbing stairs that lead to nothing sure,
With chasing lights that lure,
In the thick murk that wraps us all about.

As across many instruments a flute
Breathes low, and only thrills its selfsame tone,
That wakes in music while the rest are mute,
So send thy voice to me! Then I alone
Shall hear and answer; and we two will fare
Together, and each bear
Twin burdens, lighter now than either one.



Edward Rowland Sill's other poems:
  1. Summer Rain
  2. The Oracle
  3. A Resting-Place
  4. Summer Night
  5. Even There


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