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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=343709" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Listening</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=343709" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'T is you that are the music, not your song. <br>The song is but a door which, opening wide, <br>Lets forth the pent-up melody inside, <br>Your spirit's harmony, which clear and strong <br>Sings but of you. Throughout your whole life long <br>Your songs, your thoughts, your doings, each divide <br>This perfect beauty; waves within a tide, <br>Or single notes amid a glorious throng. <br>The song of earth has many different chords; <br>Ocean has many moods and many tones <br>Yet always ocean. In the damp Spring woods <br>The painted trillium smiles, while crisp pine cones <br>Autumn alone can ripen. So is this <br>One music with a thousand cadences.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Amy+Lowell">Amy Lowell</a></strong></div>

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