Music.

I heard you, solemn-sweet pipes of the organ, as last Sunday morn I passed the church; Winds of autumn!--as I walked the woods at dusk, I heard your long-stretched sighs, up above, so mournful; I heard the perfect Italian tenor, singing at the opera--I heard the soprano in the midst of the quartette singing. --Heart of my love! you too I heard, murmuring low, through one of the wrists around my head; Heard the pulse of you, when all was still, ringing little bells last night under my ear.