'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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STROLLER by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE FLIGHT OF YOUTH by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD THE SINGER IN THE PRISON by WALT WHITMAN FANTAISIES DECORATIVES: 2. LES BALLOONS by OSCAR WILDE THE FORSAKEN by C. HAMILTON AIDE MYRTILLA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 3. ISAAC BROWN by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |