Amy Lowell (Эми Лоуэлл)

Listening


’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.

Amy Lowell’s other poems:

  1. The Fool Errant
  2. The Cyclists
  3. The Paper Windmill
  4. To Elizabeth Ward Perkins
  5. The Green Bowl

Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • David Lawrence (Дэвид Лоуренс) Listening (“I listen to the stillness of you”)

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