A face at the window, A tap on the pane: Who is it that wants me To-night in the rain? - Richard Henry Stoddard

There is no death—the thing that we call death
Is but another, sadder name for life,
Which is itself an insufficient name,
Faint recognition of that unknown Life—
That Power whose shadow is the Universe.

We have two lives about us,
Two worlds in which we dwell;
Within us, and without us, Alternate Heaven and Hell:
Without, the somber Real,
Within our hearts of hearts, the beautiful Ideal!

Silence is the speech of love,
The music of the spheres above.