The blatant horns blare strident sound;
 Delighted, you laugh and seize
 My passive arm, but I have found
 Content in the harmonies.
 They sound, are silent; please or annoy,
 Are not clever, cruel, or coy
 Like human qualities.
 See agile fingers in frantic flight
 Along the smoking row
 Of piano keys cut from ebony night
 And from the sullied snow
 Of the city. Look love, listen love, tell me--
 Where does the music come from really,
 Where does it really go?
 Planets are tensed to a single chord
 Of absolute harmony
 Sounding from a cosmic keyboard,
 Unheard by you and me;
 Yet we re attuned; who understands
 That can see the judgment-hands
 Poised above the keys.