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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! | 
