When O’s of silence steal on your ear
And round you turn—but naught is all you hear;
When wind is nil, and nothing nothings sigh,
And all the world is darkness where you lie;
Then ‘magine me a-struggling with my pen
To make a song of light for loving men!
My brain now builds a pyramid of song
As note on welling note I point and pile;
Becomes a tower ringing bright and strong,
Then rocketship high-glancing with a smile!
At last I fuel my wonder-work with flame—
The lightning-flower hymn of your fair name!
Let soaring song now gratify your ears,
Then see the happy singer—-who appears!