Poetry Sunday: Music by Ralph Waldo Emerson

It may be easy enough for us to see or hear the music in beautiful things, but Ralph Waldo Emerson maintains that even in the ugliness of life there is music. Even in the "darkest, meanest things" or in the "mud and scum of things" always something sings. It may be a challenge to hear that music but the effort is worthwhile.

Music

by Ralph Waldo Emerson
LET me go where'er I will,
I bear a sky-born music still:
It sounds from all things old,
It sounds from all things young,
From all that's fair, from all that's foul,
Peals out a cheerful song.
It is not only in the rose,
It is not only in the bird,
Not only where the rainbow glows,
Nor in the song of woman heard,
But in the darkest, meanest things
There alway, alway something sings.
'T is not in the high stars alone,
Nor in the cup of budding flowers,
Nor in the redbreast's mellow tone,
Nor in the bow that smiles in showers,
But in the mud and scum of things
There alway, alway something sings. 


Comments

  1. mudpuddleJanuary 29, 2022 at 11:21 PM

    implying a broader perspective, sensuous enjoyment without labels... lots of good stuff in Emerson...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dorothy BordersJanuary 30, 2022 at 8:36 AM

      He always seemed to take the broader view of things with a view to their long-term effects.

      Delete
  2. David M. Gascoigne,January 30, 2022 at 5:24 AM

    I really think there is some truth to this. Music has a way to sooth like nothing else, and in the darkest moment one can remember beauty by calling on music. I have read accounts of inmates of concentration camps being comforted by the remembrance of Mozart. As humans we are capable of depravity of the most foul kind while simultaneously being able to create such beauty. Oh, and by the way, we are systematically poisoning the very planet that supports us. Oh my! Think I'll listen to Beethoven's 9th; that will permit me to forget it all for a while.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dorothy BordersJanuary 30, 2022 at 8:38 AM

      Few things soothe like Beethoven's 9th. The Ode to Joy always bids us to see the beauty around us.

      Delete
    2. AlanaJanuary 30, 2022 at 9:58 AM

      The music of the world continues even after natural disasters and man made disasters. It's hard, if you are affected by the disaster, to stop and enjoy that music but it is there, nevertheless, to provide hope of recovery.

      Delete
    3. Dorothy BordersJanuary 30, 2022 at 10:06 AM

      Very true.

      Delete
  3. The Butterfly ReaderJanuary 30, 2022 at 10:40 AM

    Music can really lift the soul. Personally, when I hear a bird, it makes me warm and fuzzy inside. But where I live you do have to actively listen for the sound.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dorothy BordersJanuary 30, 2022 at 2:26 PM

      Music, including birdsong, does transport us and give us new perspective.

      Delete
  4. reeseJanuary 30, 2022 at 10:48 AM

    Very nice! Reminds that there's beauty everywhere if you just look...a good reminder on this day when there's nothing but grey snow out my window... ;-)

    ReplyDelete
  5. Lark January 30, 2022 at 11:14 AM

    "Alway, alway something sings." I love that sentiment! Because it is how we look at life that determines if it is good or bad. Thanks for sharing this one. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dorothy BordersJanuary 30, 2022 at 2:27 PM

      Much depends upon how we look at things, as you suggest.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no
Read more

The Investigator by John Sandford: A review

Image
  I have read a few of John Sandford's books in the Prey series featuring Lucas Davenport. This book is a literal offspring of that series. It's the first in a series featuring Davenport's adopted daughter Letty Davenport. Letty is in her mid-20s and a graduate of Stanford. She works for a U.S. senator named Christopher Colles in a desk job but she's bored with her assignments. Then the senator offers her a chance to go into the field as a liaison between his office and the Department of Homeland Security.  In her first assignment in that position, she is sent to Texas along with DHS investigator John Kaiser to try to find out what is happening in regard to thefts of crude oil. The senator is not so concerned about the lost oil but wants to know where the money from its sale is going. Who is selling the oil and what they are doing with the profits? The suspicion is that a particularly nasty militia group led by a woman is involved. Letty and Kaiser head out to Texas, de
Read more

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try.
Read more