And silence will end, and the bird
'Sing the pure phrase, sweet phrase, clear phrase in the twilight
To fill the blue bell of the world;
And we, who on music so leaflike have drifted together.
Leaflike apart shall be whirled
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'Into what but the beauty of silence, silence forever?'
This is the shape of the tree,
And the flower, and the leaf, and the three pale beautiful pilgrims;
This is what you are to me."