Do you ask how I live in the Valley?
  I weep—and I dream—and I pray.
But my tears are as sweet as the dewdrops
  That fall on the roses in May;
And my prayers, like a perfume from censers,
  Ascendeth to God, night and day.

In the hush of the Valley of Silence,
  I dream all the songs that I sing;
And the music floats down the dim Valley,
  Till each finds a word for a wing,
That to men, like the Dove of the Deluge,
  A message of Peace they may bring.

But far on the deep there are billows
  That never shall break on the beach;
And I have heard songs in the Silence
  That never shall float into speech;
And I have had dreams in the Valley
  Too lofty for language to reach.

And I have seen Thoughts in the Valley—
  Ah, me! how my spirit was stirred!
And they wear holy veils on their faces,
  Their footsteps can scarcely be heard;
They pass through the Valley, like virgins
  Too pure for the touch of a word!

Do you ask me the place of the Valley,
  Ye hearts that are harrowed by Care?
It lieth afar, between mountains,
  And God and His angels are there;
And one is the dark mount of Sorrow,
  And one the bright mountain of Prayer.