I Heard You, Solemn-sweet Pipes of the Organ

America|Walt Whitman

I heard you, solemn-sweet pipes of the organ, as last Sunday morn

I passed the church;

Winds of autumn! —as I walked the woods at dusk, I heard your long-stretched 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.