There are brave sounds:

The setting down

Of a thousand feet in unison

Of mighty step;

The joyful laugh of a roomful of young men;

An organ

At the opening of a strong hymn

Just before many throats join it;

And there is the crack of a windy flag.

There are soft sounds:

The near breathing of sleeper;

A forest at night;

And the long after-tone

Of a bell that ceases ringing,

While the vaulted silence shakes.

There are sad sounds:

A muted violin;

The broken breath of watchers

Such as Elaine at Astolat;

And the sound

Of a youth growing older in one hard dry sob.

There are sounds for long listening:

Pine woods;

And the sound of a beach

With the waves falling on it

Day and night, day and night.

And there is the sound of a dear voice.