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Trumpets Pour and Bassoons Weep
"The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more." William Wordsworth Notes from unlocked throats infuse blue strains while orchestras provoke with lucid sounds, a clatter of sundry parts intrigues our brains. Brave polyphonies bounce off ceilings, walls; parallel tones mate with plumbed harmonies, and untamed clarinets howl in symphony halls. Oboes obliquely hide while bassoons weep; nothingís exempt from passionate mockeries. High-ceilinged horns awaken us from sleep. Trombones sing, no longer concealed, brass tapestries' rhythms at last reveal: Gustav Mahlerís trumpets pour his grief.
Was "And Trumpets Pouring Grief." Many thanks to Darlene Moore and Mell Morris.
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