Poem by Richard Watson Gilder

The New Day. Part 3. 10. Love's Monotone

Thou art so used, Love, to thine own bird's song,—
⁠     Sung to thine ear in love's low monotone,
⁠     Sung to thee only, Love, to thee alone
⁠     Of all the listening world,—that I among
My doubts find this the leader of the throng:
     ⁠Haply the music hath accustomed grown
     ⁠And no more music is to thee; my own
⁠     Too faithful argument works its own wrong.
Love, Love, and must I learn for thy sweet sake
⁠     The art of silence?—Ah, then hide the light
⁠     Of thy dear countenance, lest the music wake!
Yet should thy bird at last fall silent quite,
⁠     Would not thy heart an unused sorrow take?
⁠     Think not of me but of thyself to-night.

1. The New Day. Part 4. 17. “He Knows Not the Path of Duty”
2. The New Day. Part 4. 7. Song (Years have flown since I knew thee first)
3. The New Day. Part 3. 7. Body and Soul
4. The New Day. Part 4. 2. The Mirror
5. The New Day. Part 4. 6. “I Count My Time by Times That I Meet Thee”

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