Classic Poem

I LISTEN ; and I listen; and surmise.
I listen to all musics that may be;
And to the shapes and faces that my eyes See.

I listen for the strains of daily fate
To merge into some large assured Song;
Yea! though belief, and hope, and hunger wait ... Long.

And more than all, I listen to the deep
Of Silences that fold it all around,
Petal on petal, to the heart asleep, Sound.

Yet am I dumb: until She blow the breath —
Here on my forehead — of a spheral spring;
And Her eyes veil; and the near silence saith, " Sing."