Dit roep en roer my woordlief hart.
and whenever we are so finely organized
that we can penetrate into that region
where the air is music,
we hear those primal warblings and
attempt to write them down,
but we lose ever and anon a word or a verse
and substitute something of our own,
and thus miswrite the poem.
The men of more delicate ear write down
these cadences more faithfully,
and these transcripts, though imperfect,
become the songs of the nations.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson