Explore "Listening" by Amy Lowell on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
'T is you that are the music, not your song.
The song is but a door which, opening wide, / Lets forth the pent-up melody inside, / Your spirit's harmony, which clear and strong / Sings but of you. Throughout your whole life long / Your songs, your thoughts, your doings, each divide / This perfect beauty; waves within a tide, / Or single notes amid a glorious throng.
The song of earth has many different chords; / Ocean has many moods and many tones / Yet always ocean. In the damp Spring woods / The painted trillium smiles, while crisp pine cones / Autumn alone can ripen. So is this / One music with a thousand cadences.