Songs of the Silent World

There is no vacant chair. The loving meet- A group unbroken-smitten, who knows how? One sitteth silent only, in his usual seat; We gave him once that freedom. Why not now? Perhaps he is too weary, and needs rest; He needed it too often, nor could we Bestow. God gave it, knowing how to do so best. Which of us would disturb him? Let him be. There is no vacant chair. If he will take The mood to listen mutely, be it done. By his least mood we crossed, for which the heart must ache, Plead not nor question! Let him have this one.