The Poetry of Motion
By J. Schuyler Long
In the poetry of motion there is music if one sees,
In the soaring birds above us there are moving symphonies.
There is music in the movement of a ship upon the wave
And the sunbeams dancing o'er it, that the minstrels never gave.
There is music in the rhythm of the waving field of wheat
In the swaying leaves on tree-tops, and the skip of dancing feet.
There are songs of gladness for us in the opening buds of spring.
And we understand the message that their fuller blossoms bring.
There is music in the motion of the yearly changing scene
As the seasons move before us, changing brown and white to green.
There are songs of rapture for us in the colors of the sky,
In the rainbow and the sunset and in cloud-ships floating by.
There is music in the mountains---in their grandeur as they rise
With their snow-capped summits keeping vigil in the hidden skies
There is music in the rainfall, and the snowflakes coming down
Giving earth a white-robed mantle and trees a silver crown.
To the deaf there is no music in the touch of vibrant strings,
In the harmony of motion there are songs that Nature sings.
And there's music all around us if we have the eyes to see,
And although we can not hear it we can feel its melody.