Good friend of mine, you feel with me— <br />Your blood grows hot by sympathy <br />With something that I say or do; <br />Then speak—I want a word from you. <br /> <br />Let not the silence wrap you round <br />While you are living over-ground. <br />They say that earthly years are few; <br />Then speak—I want a word from you. <br /> <br />Perhaps I pass you in the street, <br />And when our eyes a moment meet, <br />I wonder are you wishing too; <br />Then speak—I want a word from you. <br /> <br />Are you, too, longing for a sign, <br />Yet fear to stretch a hand for mine? <br />What other am I writing to? <br />Then speak—I want a word from you. <br /> <br />Some way our thoughts together run, <br />Since both lift brow toward the sun <br />Beneath the self-same vault of blue; <br />Then speak—I want a word from you.<br /><br />John Le Gay Brereton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/open-speech/
