And Let Us Now Silence That Intrusive Music So Ominous, So Banal, So Tinny and So Slight

As rains and the torrentialest of snows plummet, Filling all the skies and the area interstitial to earth and sky With a frenzy of flying flakes; As gusty winds doth blow and toss the flakes this way and that; As torrents true amid the most rending species of gale Dash themselves bitterly and self-destructively Against this crude roof, It is of my hodiernal solitariness, My aloneness and lonesomeness, My singleness, and plural, Romantic stationariness that I must needs And peradventure speak: Yet, firstly, permit us all to sit still and our selves Stationary, silent and still; and silence that intruding music So ominous yet banal, tinny and slight: Lighthearted 'tis it, as well: That which plainly portends our overwhelming destruction, And that of all our cogitation, cognition, concentration And composition, with its overmuch resonant yet tinniest Intrusiveness. So allow to be it thus and summarily silenced- Now, that's better. A man can listen to himself think again; He can form cognitive thought and appreciation thereof. Therefor, that music silenced and my concentrative powers Revived: As a blade at the whetstone, resharpened: I can keep on with the prosody and poesy of my plight, But...