Silence, beautiful voice.
Forgive! How many will say, forgive, and find a sort of absolution in the sound to hate a little longer!
It is hard to wive and thrive both in a year.
Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange.
He that shuts love out, in turn shall be Shut out from love, and on her threshold lie, Howling in outer darkness.
And what delights can equal those That stir the spirit's inner deeps, When one that loves but knows not, reaps A truth from one that loves and knows?