The Silence of the Hills

The Windy forest, rousing from its sleep, Voices its heart in hoarse Titanic roar; The ocean bellows from its rocky shore; The cataract, that haunts the rugged steep, Makes mighty music in its headlong leap; The clouds have voices, and the rivers pour Their floods in thunder down to ocean’s floor;— The hills alone mysterious silence keep. They cannot rend the ancient chain that bars Their iron lips, nor answer back the sea That calls to them far off in vain; the stars They cannot hail, nor their wild brooks. Ah me! What cries from out their stony hearts will break, In God’s great day, when all that sleep shall wake!