Lyric Poem · Nature
Musicians wrestle everywhere
Musicians wrestle everywhere —
All day — among the crowded air
I hear the silver strife —
And — walking — long before the morn —
Such transport breaks upon the town
I think it that "New Life"!
If is not Bird — it has no nest —
Nor "Band" — in brass and scarlet — drest —
Nor Tamborin — nor Man —
It is not Hymn from pulpit read —
The "Morning Stars" the Treble led
On Time's first Afternoon!
Some — say — it is "the Spheres" — at play!
Some say that bright Majority
Of vanished Dames — and Men!
Some — think it service in the place
Where we — with late — celestial face —
Please God — shall Ascertain!
This poem is in the public domain.
“Musicians wrestle everywhere” by Emily Dickinson — quilloak.com/poems/musicians-wrestle-everywhere
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