Put away the flutes 
Into their careful clefts, 
And cut the violins that like ivy climb 
Flat to their very roots; 

All that a subtler time 
Allowed us we must now commute 
To commoner modes; for here come 
The hieratic trumpet and demotic drum 

Fall in and follow, let the beat 
Hyphenate your halved feet, 
Feel its imbricating rhythm 
Obliterating every schism 

And split through which you might espy 
The idiosyncratic I; 
Let the assumptive trumpets pace 
And pattern out the sounding space 
Into stillnesses that numb.