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 Times 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!