Sound Poems

Table of Contents

1. The Sound of the Trees

   by Robert Frost

   
   

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   I wonder about the trees.
   Why do we wish to bear
   Forever the noise of these
   More than another noise
   So close to our dwelling place?
   We suffer them by the day
   Till we lose all measure of pace,
   And fixity in our joys,
   And acquire a listening air.
   They are that that talks of going
   But never gets away;
   And that talks no less for knowing,
   As it grows wiser and older,
   That now it means to stay.
   My feet tug at the floor
   And my head sways to my shoulder
   Sometimes when I watch trees sway,
   From the window or the door.
   I shall set forth for somewhere,
   I shall make the reckless choice
   Some day when they are in voice
   And tossing so as to scare
   The white clouds over them on.
   I shall have less to say,
   But I shall be gone.

2. Water Noises

   by Elizabeth Madox Roberts

   
   

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   When I am playing by myself,
   And all the boys are lost around,
   Then I can hear the water go;
   It makes a little talking sound.
   

   Along the rocks below the tree,
   I see it ripple up and wink;
   And I can hear it saying on,
   "And do you think? And do you think?"
   

   A bug shoots by that snaps and ticks,
   And a bird flies up beside the tree
   To go into the sky to sing.
   I hear it say, "Killdee, killdee!"
   

   Or else a yellow cow comes down
   To splash a while and have a drink.
   But when she goes I still can hear
   The water say, "And do you think?"
   

3. A March Glee

   by John Burroughs

   
   

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   I hear the wild geese honking
   From out the misty night,—
   A sound of moving armies
   On-sweeping in their might;
   The river ice is drifting
   Beneath their northward flight.
   

   I hear the bluebird plaintive
   From out the morning sky,
   Or see his wings a-twinkle
   That with the azure vie;
   No other bird more welcome,
   No more prophetic cry.
   

   I hear the sparrow's ditty
   Anear my study door;
   A simple song of gladness
   That winter days are o'er
   My heart is singing with him,
   I love him more and more.
   

   I hear the starling fluting
   His liquid "O-ka-lee;"
   I hear the downy drumming,
   His vernal reveillé;
   From out the maple orchard
   The nuthatch calls to me.
   

   Oh, spring is surely coming.
   Her couriers fill the air;
   Each morn are new arrivals,
   Each night her ways prepare;
   I scent her fragrant garments,
   Her foot is on the stair.
   

4. Dying

   by Emily Dickinson

   
   

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   I heard a fly buzz when I died;
   The stillness round my form
   Was like the stillness in the air
   Between the heaves of storm.
   

   The eyes beside had wrung them dry,
   And breaths were gathering sure
   For that last onset, when the king
   Be witnessed in his power.
   

   I willed my keepsakes, signed away
   What portion of me I
   Could make assignable, — and then
   There interposed a fly,
   

   With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,
   Between the light and me;
   And then the windows failed, and then
   I could not see to see.
   

5. The Tree Stands Very Straight and Still

   by Annette Wynne

   The tree stands very straight and still
   All night long far on the hill;
   But if I go and listen near
   A million little sounds I hear,
   The leaves are little whispering elves
   Talking, playing by themselves,
   Playing softly altogether
   In the warm or windy weather,
   Talking softly to the sky
   Or any bird that dartles by,
   O little elves within the tree,
   Is there no word to tell to me?
   

6. Wood Dove

   by Hilda Conkling

   When morn in breaking
   When the sun is rising over
   dark, blue hills,
   When mists go by
   I hear a voice say
   Coo . . . coo . . .
   It is Mistress Wood Dove
   Hidden and alone,
   Glad of morning.
   I call,
   She answers:
   Morning is sweeter
   For her voice.
   

7. Hermit Thrush

   by Hilda Conkling

   Something that cannot be said in words . . .
   Something sweet and unknown . . .
   The wind . . . the brook . . .
   Something that comes to a trembling fuller tone
   Like a waterfall . . .
   That little brown creature is singing
   A music of water, a music of worlds;
   He will fly away south,
   But his song stays in the heart
   Once it is heard.
   

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