Poem by Richard Watson Gilder

The New Day. Part 4. 12. “My Songs Are All of Thee, What Tho' I Sing”

My songs are all of thee, what tho' I sing
⁠     Of morning when the stars are yet in sight,
     ⁠Of evening, or the melancholy night,
⁠     Of birds that o'er the reddening waters wing;
Of song, of fire, of winds, or mists that cling
     ⁠To mountain-tops, of winter all in white,
     ⁠Of rivers that toward ocean take their flight,
⁠     Of summer when the rose is blossoming.
I think no thought that is not thine, no breath
⁠     Of life I breathe beyond thy sanctity;
⁠     Thou art the voice that silence uttereth,
And of all sound thou art the sense. From thee
⁠     The music of my song, and what it saith
     ⁠Is but the beat of thy heart, throbbed through me. 

1. The New Day. Part 3. 7. Body and Soul
2. The New Day. Part 4. 3. Likeness in Unlikeness
3. The New Day. Part 4. 7. Song (Years have flown since I knew thee first)
4. The New Day. Part 4. 10. The Violin
5. The New Day. Part 4. 17. “He Knows Not the Path of Duty”

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