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<\/a><\/div>\nI know of Father Abram J. Ryan (1838-1886)\u00a0because he was once the pastor of the parish where I usually attend daily mass. Each day I walk by a historic marker that tells the story of this \u201cpoet, patriot, priest.\u201d The thing is, he was a Confederate loyalist, which makes him a rebel patriot. \u00a0Thankfully, the rebels lost the war. But even the Confederate troops needed a chaplain, and that is how Father Ryan served.<\/p>\n
Father Ryan is best know for writing the poem Conquered Banner <\/i>which, according to the Catholic Encyclopedia,<\/a> was \u201cread or sung in every Southern household, and thus became the apotheosis of the \u2018Lost Cause.'\u201d\u00a0Lost causes are good and all, but I prefer the following poem by Father Ryan instead. It is simple, beautiful, and evokes the theme of solitude, silence, and prayer. I walk down the Valley of Silence\u2014 Long ago was I weary of voices I walked in the world with the worldly; And still did I pine for the perfect, And I toiled on, heart-tired of the Human, Do you ask what I found in the Valley? Do you ask how I live in the Valley? In the hush of the Valley of Silence But far on the deep there are billows And I have seen thoughts in the Valley\u2014 Do you ask me the place of the Valley, Belmont Abbey College, located near Charlotte North Carolina, has an archive on Father Ryan which\u00a0you can access here.<\/a><\/span><\/i><\/p>\n
<\/a>
Song of the Mystic<\/i><\/b> \u2028 \u00a0 <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0Down the dim, voiceless valley\u2014alone!
And I hear not the fall of a footstep
\u00a0\u00a0Around me, save God\u2019s and my own;
And the hush of my heart is as holy
\u00a0\u00a0As hovers where angels have flown!<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0Where music my heart could not win;
Long ago was I weary of noises
\u00a0\u00a0That fretted my soul with their din;
Long ago was I weary of places
\u00a0\u00a0Where I met but the human\u2014and sin.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0I craved what the world never gave;
And I said: \u201d In the world each Ideal,
\u00a0\u00a0That shines like a star on life\u2019s wave,
Is wrecked on the shores of the Real,
\u00a0\u00a0And sleeps like a dream in the grave.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0And still found the False with the True;
I sought \u2018mid the Human for Heaven,
\u00a0\u00a0But caught a mere glimpse of its blue;
And I wept when the clouds of the Mortal
\u00a0\u00a0Veiled even that glimpse from my view.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0And I moaned \u2018mid the mazes of men,
Till I knelt, long ago, at an altar
\u00a0\u00a0And I heard a voice call me. Since then
I walk down the Valley of Silence
\u00a0\u00a0That lies far beyond mortal ken.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u2018Tis my trysting place with the Divine.
And I fell at the feet of the Holy,
\u00a0\u00a0And above me a Voice said, \u201d Be mine.\u201d
And there arose from the depths of my spirit
\u00a0\u00a0An echo\u2014\u201d My heart shall be thine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0I weep\u2014and I dream\u2014and I pray.
But my tears are as sweet as the dew-drops
\u00a0\u00a0That fall on the roses in May;
And my prayer, like the perfume from censers,
\u00a0\u00a0Ascendeth to God night and day.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0I dream all the songs that I sing;
And the music floats down the dim Valley,
\u00a0\u00a0Till each finds a word for a wing,
That to hearts, like the Dove of the Deluge,
\u00a0\u00a0A message of peace they may bring.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0That never shall break on the beach;
And I have heard songs in the silence
\u00a0\u00a0That never shall float into speech;
And I have had dreams in the Valley
\u00a0\u00a0Too lofty for language to reach.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0Ah! me, how my spirit was stirred!
And they wear holy veils on their faces,
\u00a0\u00a0Their footsteps can scarcely be heard;
They pass through the Valley like Virgins:
\u00a0\u00a0Too pure for the touch of a word!<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0Ye hearts that are harrowed by care?
It lieth afar between mountains,
\u00a0\u00a0And God and His angels are there:
And one is the dark mount of Sorrow,
\u00a0\u00a0And one the bright mountain of Prayer.<\/p>\n