Musicians wrestle everywhere

Emily Dickinson

 Next Poem          

157

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!

Next Poem 

 Back to Emily Dickinson
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.

Comments1
  • MaybellPrada

    Just read "Musicians wrestle everywhere" and it really resonated with me. She captures that indescribeable feeling wehre you sense music in the world around you, even if you cant physically hear it. Its a beautiful way to look at life and how humans interact with the world. Makes ya htink, huh.