| |
|
Before man
came to blow it right
The wind once blew itself
untaught,
And did its loudest day and night
In any
rough place where it caught.
Man came to tell it
what was wrong:
I hadn't found the place to blow;
It blew too hard--the aim was song.
And listen--how
it ought to go!
He took a little in his mouth,
And held it long enough for north
To be converted
into south,
And then by measure blew it forth.
By measure. It was word and note,
The wind the
wind had meant to be--
A little through the lips and
throat.
The aim was song--the wind could see.
|
|
|
