| |
| WHEN a wandering Italian | |
| Yesterday at noon | |
| Played upon his hurdy-gurdy | |
| Suddenly a tune, | |
| There was magic in my ear-drums: | 5 |
| Like a baby’s cup and spoon | |
| Tinkling time for many sleigh-bells, | |
| Many no-school, rainy-day-bells, | |
| Cow-bells, frog-bells, run-away-bells, | |
| Mingling with an ocean medley | 10 |
| As of elemental people | |
| More emotional than wordy,— | |
| Mermaids laughing off their tantrums, | |
| Mermen singing loud and sturdy,— | |
| Silver scales and fluting shells, | 15 |
| Popping weeds and gurgles deadly, | |
| Coral chime from coral steeple, | |
| Intermittent deep-sea bells | |
| Ringing over floating knuckles, | |
| Buried gold and swords and buckles, | 20 |
| And a thousand bubbling chuckles, | |
| Yesterday at noon,— | |
| Such a melody as star-fish, | |
| And all fish that really are fish, | |
| In a gay, remote battalion | 25 |
| Play at midnight to the moon! | |
| |
| Could any playmate on our planet, | |
| Hid in a house of earth’s own granite, | |
| Be so devoid of primal fire | |
| That a wind from this wild crated lyre | 30 |
| Should find no spark and fan it? | |
| Would any lady half in tears, | |
| Whose fashion, on a recent day | |
| Over the sea, had been to pay | |
| Vociferous gondoliers, | 35 |
| Beg that the din be sent away | |
| And ask a gentleman, gravely treading | |
| As down the aisle at his own wedding, | |
| To toss the foreigner a quarter | |
| Bribing him to leave the street; | 40 |
| That motor-horns and servants’ feet | |
| Familiar might resume, and sweet | |
| To her offended ears, | |
| The money-music of her peers! | |
| |
| Apollo listened, took the quarter | 45 |
| With his hat off to the buyer, | |
| Shrugged his shoulder small and sturdy, | |
| Led away his hurdy-gurdy | |
| Street by street, then turned at last | |
| Toward a likelier piece of earth | 50 |
| Where a stream of chatter passed, | |
| Yesterday at noon; | |
| By a school he stopped and played | |
| Suddenly a tune…. | |
| What a melody he made! | 55 |
| Made in all those eager faces, | |
| Feet and hands and fingers! | |
| How they gathered, how they stayed | |
| With smiles and quick grimaces, | |
| Little man and little maid!— | 60 |
| How they took their places, | |
| Hopping, skipping, unafraid, | |
| Darting, rioting about, | |
| Squealing, laughing, shouting out! | |
| How, beyond a single doubt, | 65 |
| In my own feet sprang the ardour | |
| (Even now the motion lingers) | |
| To be joining in their paces! | |
| Round and round the handle went,— | |
| Round their hearts went harder;— | 70 |
| Apollo urged the happy rout | |
| And beamed, ten times as well content | |
| With every son and daughter | |
| As though their little hands had lent | |
| The gentleman his quarter.— | 75 |
| (You would not guess—nor I deny— | |
| That that same gentleman was I!) | |
| |
| No gentleman may watch a god | |
| With proper happiness therefrom; | |
| So street by street again I trod | 80 |
| The way that we had come. | |
| He had not seen me following | |
| And yet I think he knew; | |
| For still, the less I heard of it, | |
| The more his music grew: | 85 |
| As if he made a bird of it | |
| To sing the distance through…. | |
| And, O Apollo, how I thrilled, | |
| You liquid-eyed rapscallion, | |
| With every twig and twist of Spring, | 90 |
| Because your music rose and filled | |
| Each leafy vein with dew,— | |
| With melody of olden sleigh-bells, | |
| Over-the-sea-and-far-away-bells, | |
| And the heart of an Italian, | 95 |
| And the tinkling cup and spoon,— | |
| Such a melody as star-fish, | |
| And all fish that really are fish, | |
| In a gay remote battalion | |
| Play at midnight to the moon! | 100 |
| |
