Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains,
And feeds her grief. [ Shelley ]

The crackling embers on the hearth are dead;
The indoor note of industry is still;
The latch is fast; upon the window-sill
The small birds wait not for their daily bread;
The voiceless flowers - how quietly they shed
Their nightly odours; - and the household rill
Murmurs continuous dulcet sounds that fill
The vacant expectation, and the dread
Of listening night. [ Hartley Coleridge ]

Your voiceless lips, O flowers, are living preachers - each cup a pulpit, and each leaf a book. [ Horace Smith ]

The wretchedness which fate has rendered voiceless and tuneless is not the least wretched, but the most. [ Carlyle ]

Those eyes, soft and capricious as a cloudless sky, whose azure depth their color emulates, must needs be conversant with upward looks - prayer's voiceless service. [ Wordsworth ]