A Song Poem by Arka Basu

A bugle to the weary ear
Removes all dreams of kingdom come,
Recedes the soldier's fallen tear
And bellows his heart with the drum,
As clamors shield on pointed spear
And sings a euphony of home,
Each dying troop with closing breath
Attends a symphony of death.

A lover's welter and his woe
Seeks a violin's weeping strain,
For melody melts spite and snow
Which haunts the sinking, swooning swain,
And thus forgiven, flame and foe
Which brewed the draught of lover's bane,
Ascends the tune, a breath of June
A heart in summer 'neath the lune.

An oboe wakes a human note
In crystal seas where saints have drowned,
A grand piano did once quote
A lay which infancy had found,
While tyrants reign and malice dote
A peace will shelter us in sound,
For what is life without a song?
An empty sheet to play along.