Daily Whitman


The Mystic Trumpeter

  Hark, some wild trumpeter, some strange musician,
  Hovering unseen in air, vibrates capricious tunes to-night.

  I hear thee trumpeter, listening alert I catch thy notes,
  Now pouring, whirling like a tempest round me,
  Now low, subdued, now in the distance lost.


Posted on 20/07/2015, in literature, poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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