THE river at the break of day

Far from the haunts of men,

Where mists of early autumn lay

Across the Norfolk fen.

And willows at the water's edge

Stand motionless and tall,

With morning dew upon the sedge

Where alders lean and sprawl.

About this early morning place

Of neither stir nor sound

Within the stillness there I trace

Some presence all around.

How little do we comprehend

The power that silence holds,

That somehow makes our souls ascend

As round us it enfolds.

In great cathedral high and vast,

Or church down country lane,

Some holy stillness there is cast

We feel but can't explain.

Among the hills new strength we draw

From heath and mountain air,

And in the silence of the moor

We feel God's presence there.

What lifts our soul with such strange thrill

When silence is around,

When all the world is calm and still

And solitude is found?

Great music is a lovely thing,

And larks and nightingales,

But only can their joy they bring

When silence too, prevails.

The willows whispering in the breeze,

A bumble bee in flight;

The drip of rain from woodland trees,

A barn owl in the night.

Earth's differing music rapture brings,

Yet this for sure I know -

For all the beauty of these things

'Tis silence makes it so.

Updated: 11:54 Thursday, November 29, 2001