The Harmony of morning, and a thrush's throat among the sleep deserted boughs, Expiring mists that murmur all the day of a clear dusk, with music at the close; Night madrigal and round: there is no word melodious as those. Rage of the viol whose deep and shady room is sounded to a tempest by the strings; Sweet keys depressed, swift rise upon a note, whence all the narrow soul of music hangs; The reed, and horns agreeing: Words in the wake of these are scrannel gongs. In them another music, half of sound and half of something taciturn between; In them another ringing, ringing, not for ears, Not loud; But in the chambers of a brain are bells that clap an answer when the words move orderly, With truth among the train, When the words move, but in the chambers of a brain are bells that clap an answer When the words move, When the words move orderly, with truth among the train.
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Authorship:
- by Mark van Doren (1894 - 1972) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Elliott Cook Carter, Jr. (1908 - 2012), "The Harmony of Morning" [sung text checked 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 13
Word count: 164