Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low.
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so
Who art not missed by any that entreat.
Speak to me as to Mary at Thy feet--
And if no precious gums my hands bestow,
Let my tears drop like amber, while I go
In reach of Thy divinest voice complete
In humanest affection--thus in sooth,
To lose the sense of losing! As a child
Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore,
Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth;
Till, sinking on her breast, love reconciled,
He sleeps the faster that he wept before.
--_Elizabeth Barrett Browning._