Ii

Are there not, then, two musics unto men?— One loud and bold and coarse, And overpowering still perforce All tone and tune beside; Yet in despite its pride Only of fumes of foolish fancy bred, And sounding solely in the sounding head: The other, soft and low, Stealing whence we not know, Painfully heard, and easily forgot, With pauses oft and many a silence strange (And silent oft it seems, when silent it is not), Revivals too of unexpected change: Haply thou think’st ’twill never be begun, Or that ’t has come, and been, and passed away: Yet turn to other none,— Turn not, oh, turn not thou! But listen, listen, listen,—if haply be heard it may; Listen, listen, listen,—is it not sounding now?