Voices tell tales they say, They sing what a face may hide.
The rivulet tells its way, By the murmuring of its tides
The rivulets love the shade. Where the ripples unseen may flow
But somehow the silent glade, Knoweth the way they go.
I listen more than I look. The eye knows not as the ear.
I can tell the tale of the brook, If only its song I hear.
For the lips are the lids of the heart. Open them once and sing
You cannot conceal by art. The story of life they bring.
The wave that sings on a shore Tells the story of all the main.
And voices that sing evermore, Tell lives in their every strain.
All Voices that sing are true, Without or with any art.
They tell the ear even as you, Sang out in your song, your heart.