LVI
Melodies Unheard
Musicians wrestle everywhere:All day, among the crowded air,I hear the silver strife;And—waking long before the dawn—Such transport breaks upon the townI think it that “new life!”
It is not bird, it has no nest;Nor band, in brass and scarlet dressed,Nor tambourine, nor man;It is not hymn from pulpit read,—The morning stars the treble ledOn time’s first afternoon!
Some say it is the spheres at play!Some say that bright majorityOf vanished dames and men!Some think it service in the placeWhere we, with late, celestial face,Please God, shall ascertain!