Poem by Eleanor Farjeon

Silence

Words and the body always have been much pain to me,
  Little fetters and drags on immensities
  Never to be defined. I am done with these.
Meanings of silence suddenly all grow plain to me.

Something still may sing like a joyous flute in me
  Out of the life that dares to be voiced aloud,
  But speech no more shall swathe like a burial-shroud
Things unencompassable now eloquent-mute in me.

1. Sonnets. 12. I hear love answer: Since within the mesh
2. Three Miles to Penn
3. Sonnets. 1. Man Cannot Be a Sophist to His Heart
4. Sonnets. 2. O Spare Me from the Hand of Niggard Love
5. Never-Known

Danske Dandridge Silence ("Come down from the aerial height")

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