The Open Heart

Would you understand

The language with no word,

The speech of brook and bird,

Of waves along the sand?

Would you make your own

The meaning of the leaves,

The song the silence weaves

Where little winds made moan?

Would you know how sweet

The falling of the rill,

The calling on the hill,—

All tunes the days repeat?

Neither alms nor art,

No toil, can help you hear;

The secret of the ear

Is in the open heart.