Poem December 22, 1980 Issue

A sound I've heard

EVELYN GROVER HEISS

There are special sounds, so rare, so dear,
that I've longed to hear with the hearing ear.
And I've often wondered why, oh why
can't I hear the jasmine's fragrant sigh;
or the white sand's shussh on the ocean floor
beneath the waves that surge and roar.
Although it sounds like a foolish thing,
I should love to hear a bluebell ring.
Should I barely breathe some snow-still morn,
when dawn's first rose wakes the Matterhorn,
would I catch what is said in that waking touch?
Could I hear, could I hear what I love so much?

Yet, I tell you now, there's a sound I've heard—
a sound more rare than the kindest word—
more hushed than the light on the Matterhorn
that glows at dawn on a snow-still morn.
I've heard Truth speak! Then my heart's heart found
that I've known a music transcending sound.
And oh, what a holy, wondrous thing
to have heard Love talk, to have heard Soul sing.

EVELYN GROVER HEISS

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