(And silent oft it seems, when silent it is not)
Revivals too of unexpected change:
Haply thou think'st 'twill never he begun,
Or that 't has come, and been, and past away;
⁠Yet turn to other none,—
⁠Turn not, oh, turn not thou!
But listen, listen, listen,—if haply he heard it may;
Listen, listen, listen,—is it not sounding now?

By death or distance parted will descend,
Severing, in crowded rooms ablaze with light,
As by a magic screen, the seër from the sight,
(Palsying the nerves that intervene
The eye and central sense between;)
⁠So may the ear,
⁠Hearing, not hear,
Though drums do roll, and pipes and cymbals ring;
So the bare conscience of the better thing
Unfelt, unseen, unimaged, all unknown,
May fix the entrancèd soul mid multitudes alone.