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by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892)

The Mystic Trumpeter
 (Sung text for setting by G. Holst)
 See original
Language: English 
1
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.
  
 ... 
  
3
Blow, trumpeter, free and clear -- I follow thee,
While at thy liquid prelude, glad, serene,
The fretting world, the streets, the noisy hours of day, withdraw;
A holy calm descends, like dew, upon me,
I walk, in cool refreshing night, the walks of Paradise,
I scent the grass, the moist air, and the roses;
Thy song expands my numb'd, imbonded spirit -- thou freest, launchest me,
Floating and basking upon Heaven's lake.
  
 ... 
  
5
Blow again, trumpeter! and for thy theme,
Take now the enclosing theme of all -- the solvent and the setting;
Love, that is pulse of all -- the sustenace and the pang;
The heart of man and woman all for love;
No other theme but love -- knitting, enclosing, all-diffusing love.
  
O, how the immortal phantoms crowd around me!
I see the vast alembic ever working -- I see and know the flames that heat the world;
The glow, the blush, the beating hearts of lovers,
So blissful happy some -- and some so silent, dark, and nigh to death:
Love, that is all the earth to lovers -- Love, that mocks time and space;
Love, that is day and night -- Love, that is sun and moon and stars;
Love, that is crimson, sumptuous, sick with perfume;
No other words, but words of love -- no other thought but Love.
  
6
Blow again, trumpeter -- conjure war's Wild alarums.
Swift to thy spell, a shuddering hum like distant thunder rolls;
Lo! where the arm'd men hasten -- Lo! mid the clouds of dust, the glint of bayonets;
I see the grime-faced cannoniers -- I mark the rosy flash amid the smoke -- 
  I hear the cracking of the guns:
 ... 
  
7
O trumpeter! methinks I am myself the instrument thou playest!
Thou melt'st my heart, my brain -- thou movest, drawest, changest them, at will:
And now thy sullen notes send darkness through me;
Thou takest away all cheering light -- all hope:
 ... 
Utter defeat upon me weighs -- all lost! the foe victorious!
(Yet 'mid the ruins Pride colossal stands, unshaken to the last;
Endurance, resolution, to the last.)
  
8
Now, trumpeter, for thy close,
Vouchsafe a higher strain than any yet;
Sing to my soul -- renew its languishing faith and hope;
Rouse up my slow belief -- give me some vision of the future;
Give me, for once, its prophecy and joy.
  
O glad, exulting, culminating song!
A vigor more than earth's is in thy notes!
Marches of victory -- man disenthrall'd -- the conqueror at last!
Hymns to the universal God, from universal Man -- all joy!
A reborn race appears -- a perfect World, all joy!
Women and Men, in wisdom, innocence and health -- all joy!
Riotous, laughing bacchanals, fill'd with joy!
  
War, sorrow, suffering gone -- The rank earth purged -- nothing but joy left!
The ocean fill'd with joy -- the atmosphere all joy!
Joy! Joy! in freedom, worship, love! Joy in the ecstacy of life!
Enough to merely be! Enough to breathe!
Joy! Joy! all over Joy!

Composition:

    Set to music by Gustav Holst (1874 - 1934), "The Mystic Trumpeter", subtitle: "Scena for Soprano and Orchestra", op. 18, H 71 (1904), first performed 1905 [ soprano and orchestra ]

Text Authorship:

  • by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892), "The Mystic Trumpeter", appears in Leaves of Grass

See other settings of this text.


Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Gustav Ringel

This text was added to the website: 2011-01-26
Line count: 87
Word count: 782

Gentle Reminder

This website began in 1995 as a personal project by Emily Ezust, who has been working on it full-time without a salary since 2008. Our research has never had any government or institutional funding, so if you found the information here useful, please consider making a donation. Your help is greatly appreciated!
–Emily Ezust, Founder

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