What is the saddest sweetest lowest sound

Nearest akin to perfect silence? Not

The delicate whisper sometimes in the hot

Autumnal morning heard the cornfields round;

Nor yet to lonely man, now almost bound

By slumber, near his house a murmuring river

Buzzing and droning o'er the stones for ever.

Not such faint voice of Autumn oat-encrown'd,

And not such liquid murmur, O my heart!

But tears that drop o'er graves, and sins, and fears,

A sound the very weeper scarcely hears,

A music in which silence hath some part.

--O Thou, all gentle, Who all-hearing art,

Hold not Thy peace, sweet Saviour, at my tears!