Listening

Photo by Babette Landmesser on Unsplash

Too often, we judge our self-worth by our talents, our achievements, or how much others love, appreciate, or desire us.

So we get up every day and try—we try to hone our talents, add to our achievements, and make ourselves more lovable, useful, and desirable.

In this poem, Amy Lowell asks us to take a break from all that and listen to the music inside us. It is both a uniquely beautiful melody of our spirit and a bridge between ourselves and the wondrous symphony of all living things.

We don’t have to strive to attain or deserve it; it’s already there. All we have to do is listen.

Listening

by Amy Lowell (1874 - 1925)

'T is you that are the music, not your song.
The song is but a door which, opening wide,
Lets forth the pent-up melody inside,
Your spirit's harmony, which clear and strong
Sings but of you. Throughout your whole life long
Your songs, your thoughts, your doings, each divide
This perfect beauty; waves within a tide,
Or single notes amid a glorious throng.
The song of earth has many different chords;
Ocean has many moods and many tones
Yet always ocean. In the damp Spring woods
The painted trillium smiles, while crisp pine cones
Autumn alone can ripen. So is this
One music with a thousand cadences.

Originally published by Houghton Mifflin in 1912, in the collection, A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass.