The Accompaniment Poem by Jan Struther
The Accompaniment
WHEN in chance talk they speak your name
No common syllables I hear:
Rich with unuttered harmonies
It falls upon my inward ear.
So a musician, hearing sung
By idle lips some well-loved words,
Hears, too, beneath the naked tune,
The richness of remembered chords.
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: lips
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8/18/2026 2:46:52 AM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
