NOW I make a leaf of Voices--for I have found nothing mightier than <br /> they are, <br /> And I have found that no word spoken, but is beautiful, in its place. <br /> <br /> O what is it in me that makes me tremble so at voices? <br /> Surely, whoever speaks to me in the right voice, him or her I shall <br /> follow, <br /> As the water follows the moon, silently, with fluid steps, anywhere <br /> around the globe. <br /> <br /> All waits for the right voices; <br /> Where is the practis'd and perfect organ? Where is the develop'd <br /> Soul? <br /> For I see every word utter'd thence, has deeper, sweeter, new sounds, <br /> impossible on less terms. <br /> <br /> I see brains and lips closed--tympans and temples unstruck, <br /> Until that comes which has the quality to strike and to unclose, 10 <br /> Until that comes which has the quality to bring forth what lies <br /> slumbering, forever ready, in all words.<br /><br />Walt Whitman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/voices/
