Musicians wrestle everywhere –
All day – among the crowded air
I hear the silver strife –
And – waking – long before the morn –
Such transport breaks opon the town
I think it that ′′New life′′!

It 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!