Most western music since the Renaissance is organized by a particular key, such as C major; musicians use the word tonal to describe such music. Some non-western languages, such as Mandarin Chinese, are tonal in a different sense: the Mandarin wordma, depending on whether the voice rises or remains level when uttering it, may mean either horse or mother. Although syllable stress may determine the meaning of English words, allowing us to hear the difference between contract and contract or betweenminute and minute, English is not a tonal language. And while English syllables may be uttered at different pitches relative to one another, neither is the sonic life of the English language tonal in the musical sense. What then do poets, in contrast to linguists or musicians, mean by the word tone? A poem’s diction, rhythm, or syntax is palpably describable, but asking a poet to produce a poem with an interesting tone is like asking a chef to produce a meal that tastes good: if successful, the chef will be thinking about the manipulation of particular ingredients. You can’t reach into the pantry for a cup of tone.
Consider Ezra Pound’s “In a Station of the Metro.”
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;Petals on a wet, black bough.