Composer’s Prayer

My imagination, The arc of a bow, Up down up down up, In strict staccato.

My instantiation, Hark of all, Everything around me, Tremble, tremble.

Melody, In sweet bespree, When will thee, In harmony, Come to me resemble?

Angels sing, Bell strings spin, Fog dispersed, Starshine burst, Light my page, With well-placed verse, And noted grace assemble.