Melodies die out, like the pipe of Pan, with the ears that love them and listen for them.
And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears.
No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings.
And we'd sit in the dry leaves that whispered a little with the slow respiration of our waiting and with the slow breathing of the earth and the windless october, the rank smell of the lantern fouling the brittle air, listening to the dog and the echo of louis' voice dying away
The hush comes with the deepening of Autumn; but it comes gradually. Our ears are attuned to it, day by quieter day. But even now, if one awakens in the deep darkness of the small hours, one can hear it, a foretaste of Winter silence. It’s a little painful now, and a little lonely because it is so strange.
Let echo, too, perform her part, Prolonging every note with art; And in a low expiring strain, Play all the comfort o'er again.
I think it was 'Tales of Topographic Oceans' on 8-track that was the funniest thing because it would fade out in the middle of a song and fade back in again, and when the tracks change, it was quite amusing.
Memories are hunting horns whose sound dies on the wind.
When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.
I listened to them fade away till all I could hear was my memory of the sound.
O hark,O hear! how thin and clear And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Softly the loud peal dies, In passing winds it drowns, But breathes, like perfect joys, Tender tones.
The voice so sweet, the words so fair, As some soft chime had stroked the air; And though the sound had parted thence, Still left an echo in the sense.
