Descant

after Emily Dickinson

My life sounds as a Melody,
though often poorly played —
Untuned it seems, and fickle —
Now jocular — now sad

But then a Higher octave comes,
Where sings a sweeter Note,
If I could only listen — close —
More delicate than thought —

This harmony — Exquisite —
Recalls my soul — to be
No mortal dragging on the earth
But singing — in the Sky