Little black spots on a sheet of white paper—
Up they go, down again—a musical caper
Sitting in spaces and resting on lines,
And sprinkled all through them are musical signs.
Silent, they’re waiting until we arrive—
My flute and I know how to make them alive.
We free them from paper, they go here and there;
Rising, then falling, they play through the air.
Hear them escaping? We’re setting them free,
Off on a wonderful, musical spree!
Fading, then gaining, their chorus ascends.
Play on, little flute! We must free all their friends!