The speaker listens as music seems to arrive almost by itself, rising from strings, reeds, flutes, oboes, and drums. The sounds are gentle and half-dreaming at first, with voices fading in and out. Then, in the quiet of night, a bird’s song wakes the speaker into a strange state between sleep and awareness, and the same music returns but feels different—richer, stranger, full of change. The speaker wonders whether the sound is really instruments at all, or whether the wind itself is moving through reeds and strings, turning the whole sky into music. The mood is hazy, mysterious, and hypnotic, blurring the line between real music, memory, and imagination. It captures that drifting feeling when sounds seem to come from inside a dream as much as from the outside world.
Music Comes — Summary
Music comes Sweetly from the trembling string When wizard fingers sweep Dreamily, half asleep; When through remembering reeds Ancient airs and murmurs creep, Oboe oboe following, Flute answering clear high flute, Voices, voices--falling mute, And the jarring drums.
At night I heard First a waking bird Out of the quiet darkness sing.... Music comes Strangely to the brain asleep! And I heard Soft, wizard fingers sweep Music from the trembling string, And through remembering reeds Ancient airs and murmurs creep; Oboe oboe following, Flute calling clear high flute, Voices faint, falling mute, And low jarring drums; Then all those airs Sweetly jangled--newly strange, Rich with change.... Was it the wind in the reeds? Did the wind range Over the trembling string; Into flute and oboe pouring Solemn music; sinking, soaring Low to high, Up and down the sky? Was it the wind jarring Drowsy far-off drums?
Strangely to the brain asleep Music comes.