Morris turns listening into eating. The speaker tells us, almost like a cook giving instructions, to open our ears the way we would open our mouths, hungry for something calming. Silence isn't treated as an empty gap but as something we can swallow, and music becomes food too: notes that can be cut up and tasted.
The last line, "Eat lunch with a violin," is the funniest and most surprising. It makes music feel like company at the table, something ordinary and close rather than distant or grand. The speaker seems to want us to take in sound with the same simple appetite we bring to a meal.
The mood is calm, a little playful, and gently sensual. The short, commanding lines feel like quiet invitations. Judging by the imagery, the speaker finds comfort in both silence and music, and wants the reader to slow down and savor them.