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He touched his harp, and nations heard, entranced,As some vast river of unfailing source,Rapid, exhaustless, deep, his numbers flowed,And opened new fountains in the human heart.
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Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Christus, Part III. Second Interlude, Stanza 5.
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie (1847), Part I. 1.
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Outre-Mer. Ancient Spanish Ballads.
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Children of the Lord's Supper, line 262.
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Day is Done, Stanza 8.
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Song of Hiawatha (1855), Part XV, line 56.
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Her ivory hands on the ivory keys Strayed in a fitful fantasy,Like the silver gleam when the poplar trees Rustle their pale leaves listlesslyOr the drifting foam of a restless seaWhen the waves show their teeth in the flying breeze.
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Her voice, the music of the spheres,So loud, it deafens mortals' ears;As wise philosophers have thought,And that's the cause we hear it not.
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Herman Hesse, The Glass Bead Game.
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Herman Hesse, Joseph Knecht in The Glass Bead Game, R. Winton, trans. (1990)
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Horace and James Smith, Rejected Addresses, The Theatre, line 20.
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Horace, Ars Poetica (18 BC), 355.
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How her fingers went when they moved by noteThrough measures fine, as she marched them o'erThe yielding plank of the ivory floor.