Under-Song

There is music in the strong Deep-throated bush, Whisperings of song Heard in the leaves' hush-- Ballads of the trees In tongues unknown-- A reminiscent tone On minor keys...

Boughs swaying to and fro Though no winds pass... Faint odors in the grass Where no flowers grow, And flutterings of wings And faint first notes, Once babbled on the boughs Of faded springs.

Is it music from the graves Of all things fair Trembling on the staves Of spacious air-- Fluted by the winds Songs with no words-- Sonatas from the throats Of master birds?

One peering through the husk Of darkness thrown May hear it in the dusk-- That ancient tone, Silvery as the light Of long dead stars Yet falling through the night In trembling bars.