Classic Poem

" They have neither speech nor language"

Who was it laughed? The wind on the meadows?
The ripples dancing, mad with glee?
Where the seagulls chase their flying shadows
Over the shore and over the sea?

Who was it spoke? The speechless voices
Which rise deep in the heart of things,
When the great sun in his strength rejoices,
And star with star holds communings?

With murmuring music low that hovers
Tremulous through the haunted air?
Whispered sighs of dear dead lovers?
A poet's rapture? A martyr's prayer?

Deep in the heart old dreams awaken,
Fresh and strong they rise from the grave:
The new day gives what the old has taken,
Gives me again what the old day gave.

Waves of the sea, the stars of heaven,
Ghosts of the past that beckon and call,
All that was given, taken, given;
The dead spoke. I heard it all.