by Gwendolyn Brooks (1949)
First fight. Then fiddle. Ply the slipping string A
With feathery sorcery; muzzle the note B
With hurting love; the music that they wrote B
Bewitch, bewilder. Qualify to sing A
Threadwise. Devise no salt, no hempen thing A
For the dear instrument to bear. Devote B
The bow to silks and honey. Be remote B
A while from malice and from murdering. A
But first to arms, to armor. Carry hate C
In front of you and harmony behind. D
Be deaf to music and to beauty blind. D
Win war. Rise bloody, maybe not too late C
For having first to civilize a space E
Wherein to play your violin with grace. E
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