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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Witter Bynner

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Apollo Troubadour

Witter Bynner

WHEN a wandering Italian

Yesterday at noon

Played upon his hurdy-gurdy

Suddenly a tune,

There was magic in my ear-drums:

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

As of elemental people

More emotional than wordy,—

Mermaids laughing off their tantrums,

Mermen singing loud and sturdy,—

Silver scales and fluting shells,

Popping weeds and gurgles deadly,

Coral chime from coral steeple,

Intermittent deep-sea bells

Ringing over floating knuckles,

Buried gold and swords and buckles,

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

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

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,

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;

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

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

Where a stream of chatter passed,

Yesterday at noon;

By a school he stopped and played

Suddenly a tune….

What a melody he made!

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!—

How they took their places,

Hopping, skipping, unafraid,

Darting, rioting about,

Squealing, laughing, shouting out!

How, beyond a single doubt,

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;—

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.—

(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

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:

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,

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,

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!