DOT-DOT-DOT-DAH!
BOY-BOY-BOY-GIRL!
Not like any one note stands alone: they all are equal in importance.
But it does seem like the first three are all rushing to the fourth: The final syllable in a musical phrase of four that is, as a unit, the melody in every movement of the masterpiece.
In the first movement it's a demand to be heard;
In the second it's a sweet call to reason and love;
In the third it raises a defiant cry of confidence;
But in the fourth, as a wild celebration of all that it means to be one and yet four, the order is reversed, and the last note becomes the one that propels the first three into prominence:
DOT - DAH - DAH - DAH !!!
How can you tell of the joys upon which you have been lifted upon wings to fly and live, upon four solitary notes that have been given to you, unique in each of their ways, uniquely indivisible at the last as one, sweet, singing thought, and especially by the one who came to complete the motif, and who reminds you most
of the one
through whom
they all
were
given?
