THAT music always round me, unceasing, unbeginning--yet long untaught <br /> I did not hear; <br /> But now the chorus I hear, and am elated; <br /> A tenor, strong, ascending, with power and health, with glad notes of <br /> day-break I hear, <br /> A soprano, at intervals, sailing buoyantly over the tops of immense <br /> waves, <br /> A transparent bass, shuddering lusciously under and through the <br /> universe, <br /> The triumphant tutti--the funeral wailings, with sweet flutes and <br /> violins--all these I fill myself with; <br /> I hear not the volumes of sound merely--I am moved by the exquisite <br /> meanings, <br /> I listen to the different voices winding in and out, striving, <br /> contending with fiery vehemence to excel each other in emotion; <br /> I do not think the performers know themselves--but now I think I <br /> begin to know them.<br /><br />Walt Whitman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/that-music-always-round-me/
