Page:Curtains - Hall.djvu/22

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THE WORLD'S VOICE

If I listen shall I hear Sounds that seem to hover near? Speech of ship calling to ship Through dark tides that twist and grip, Dash of spray on a splintered coast, The whisper-flutter of a host Of sun-coloured butterflies Wheeling under marbled skies; The jabber of a little wind Where the meadows grass is thinned—Or where trees forget their prides To sway in unison like tides; All the city's formal din; All the hush where big streets thin To little crooked lanes and lose Themselves as the green distance blues Into space—— Oh, everything That can either sound or sing!
To-day my four grey walls are strung So thin, each echo has a tongue; The world has raised its voice to-day That I may hear what it has to say.

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