New Orts #80

July 27 MMXXV

Only In Sleep

Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.

Only in sleep Time is forgotten—
What may have come to them, who can know?
Yet we played last night as long ago,
And the doll-house stood at the turn of the stair.

The years had not sharpened their smooth round faces,
I met their eyes and found them mild—
Do they, too, dream of me, I wonder,
And for them am I too a child?

— Sara Teasdale

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Music begins to atrophy when it departs too far from the dance.
Poetry begins to atrophy when it gets too far from music.
— Ezra Pound, ABC of Reading ABC of Reading (1934)

Music might be defined as a system of proportions in the service of a spiritual impulse.
— George Crumb (composer, 1929-2022)

Too many pieces of music finish too long after the end.
— Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971)

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No!
— Hamlet, Act III, Scene III, line 87

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