For
I hear music, they were saying. Music
wakes us. Music makes us see the hidden,
join the broken. Look and listen. See the flowers, how they ray their redness,
whiteness, silverness and blue. And the
trees with their many-tongued much syllabling, their green and yellow leaves
hustle us and shuffle us, and bid us, like the starlings, and the rooks, come
together, crowd together, to chatter and make merry while the red cow moves
forward and the black cow stands still.
Between the Acts (83)
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