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Unheard Post by :bubba Category :Poems Author :Madison Julius Cawein Date :September 2011 Read :2164

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Unheard

All things are wrought of melody,
Unheard, yet full of speaking spells;
Within the rock, within the tree,
A soul of music dwells.

A mute symphonic sense that thrills
The silent frame of mortal things;
Its heart beats in the ancient hills,
In every flower sings.

To harmony all growth is set--
Each seed is but a music mote,
From which each plant, each violet,
Evolves its purple note.

Compact of melody, the rose
Woos the soft wind with strain on strain
Of crimson; and the lily blows
Its white bars to the rain.

The trees are paeans; and the grass
One long green fugue beneath the sun--
Song is their life; and all shall pass,
Shall cease, when song is done.


(The end)
Madison Julius Cawein's poem: Unheard

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