The mocking bird is music-mad to-night,
He thinks the stars are notes;
That he must sing each spattered star, and be
A choir of many throats.
The earth is his cathedral, and its dome
Is all the light-pricked sky;
The pear-tree is his choir loft, and there
He flings his mad songs high.
Grace Noll Crowell (1877-1969) American poet
“Music-Mad,” Good Housekeeping (Jun 1923)
