Here you will find the Poem Chanson Sans Paroles of poet Ernest Christopher Dowson
I the deep violet air, Not a leaf is stirred; There is no sound heard, But afar, the rare Trilled voice of a bird. Is the wood's dim heart, And the fragrant pine, Incense, and a shrine Of her coming. Apart, I wait for a sign. What the sudden hush said, She will hear, and forsake, Swift, for my sake, Her green, grassy bed: She will hear and awake! She will hearken and glide, From her place of deep rest, Dove-eyed, with the breast Of a dove, to my side: The pines bow their crest. I wait for a sign: The leaves to be waved, The tall tree-tops laved In a flood of sunshine, This world to be saved! In the deep violet air, Not a leaf is stirred; There is no sound heard, But afar, the rare Trilled voice of a bird.
