Walt Whitman

I Heard You, Solemn-sweet Pipes of the Organ

I HEARD you, solemn-sweet pipes of the organ, as last Sunday morn I pass’d the church; Winds of autumn!—as I walk’d the woods at dusk, I heard your long-stretch’d sighs, up above, so mournful; I heard the perfect Italian tenor, singing at the opera—I heard the soprano in the midst of the quartet singing; ... Heart of my love!—you too I heard, murmuring low, through one of the wrists around my head; Heard the pulse of you, when all was still, ringing little bells last night under my ear. 5

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