yet
long untaught I did not hear,
But
now the chorus I hear and am elated,
A
tenor, strong, ascending with power and health, with glad notes of daybreak I
hear,
A
soprano at intervals sailing buoyantly over the tops of immense waves,
A
transparent base shuddering lusciously under and through the universe,
The
triumphant tutti, the funeral wailings with sweet flutes and violins, all of
these I fill myself with,
I
hear not the volumes of sound merely, I am moved by the exquisite meanings,
I
listen to the different voices winding in and out, striving, contending with
fiery vehemence to excel each other in emotion;
I
do not think the performers know themselves-but now I think I begin to know
them.” —American poet Walt Whitman (1819-1892), "That Music Always Round Me," in the "Whispers of Heavenly Death" section in Whitman's
last edition of Leaves of Grass
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