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Music is love in search of a word. - [Music] Into the woods, my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent, Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him, The little gray leaves were kind to Him: The thorn-tree had a mind to Him, When into the woods He came. - A Ballad of Trees and the Master [Christ] But who will reveal to our waiting ken The forms that swim and the shapes that creep under the waters of sleep? And I would I could know what swimmeth below when the time comes in On the length and the breadth of the marvelous Marches of Glynn. - Marches of Glynn (last lines) [Sleep] Ye marshes, how candid and simple and nothing-with-holding and free Ye publish yourselves to the sky and offer yourselves to the sea! - Marshes of Glynn [Nature] Out of the hills of Habersham, Down the valleys of Hall, I hurry amain to reach the plain; Run the rapid and leap the fall, Split at the rock, and together again Accept my bed, or narrow or wide, And flee from folly on every side With a lover's pain to attain the plain, Far from the hills of Habersham, Far from the valleys of Hall. - The Song of the Chattahoochee [Chattahoochee River : Rivers] A velvet flute-note fell down pleasantly, Upon the bosom of that harmony, And sailed and sailed incessantly, As if a petal from a wild-rose blown Had fluttered down upon that pool of tone, And boatwise dropped o' the convex side And floated down the glassy tide And clarified and glorified The solemn spaces where the shadows bide. From the warm concave of that fluted note Somewhat, half song, half odour forth did float As if a rose might somehow be a throat. - The Symphony [Music]
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