I know a certain tune that my life plays;
Over and over I have heard it start
With all the wavering loveliness of viols,
And gain in swiftness like a runner’s heart.
It climbs and climbs; I watch it sway in climbing
High over time, high even over doubt.
It has all heaven to itself—it pauses,
And faltering blindly down the air, goes out.
– Sara Teasdale