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 pans; and the grass One long green fugue beneath the sun Song is their life; and all shall pass, Shall cease, when song is done.
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"All things are wrought of melody,..."
This evocative piece by Madison Julius Cawein, titled "Unheard.", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...