Silence. James Russell Lowell

When the cup of hope brims over
   And the soul hath drunk its fill,
When the loved one meets the lover
   And their hearts in sunshine hover
      With one impulse and one will, -
      Then the useless tongue is still.

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When the heart is bare of gladness
   And the helpless sense of ill
Goads the apathy of sadness
Onward, through a whirl of madness
      To a darkness drear[?] and chill, -
      Then the palsied tongue is still.

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When the soul for Power sigheth,
   Struggling for Art's fuller skill,
And the prophet heart o'erflieth
All the agony that trieth,
      All the tear drops it must spill, -
      Then the traced tongue is still.

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When two hearts that love are parted,
   And truth lingers but to kill,
When they strive to be hardhearted
And the props of life are started
      With a timor and a thrill
      Then the choking tongue is still