The days come and go like muffled and veiled figures sent from a distant friendly party, but they say nothing, and if we do not use the gifts they bring, they carry them as silently away.
'Tis not in seeking,
'Tis not in endless striving
Thy quest is found.
Be still and listen.
Be still, and rink the silence
Of all around.
Not for the crying,
Nor for Thy loud beseeching
Will peace draw near.
Rest, with palms folded,
Rest with thine eyelids fallen --
Lo, peace is here.