All April's larks in her most lavish sky Know less of song than these! O mournful two, Birds of Cremona, what shall rouse in you The keen, edged sound once scattered planet high? Like carrier doves, dismissed, unwinged, you lie In dusty fame, your loosened strings untrue To any key, hang limp as grasses do After the long, long drought when meadows die. This is no mood for lordly violins! These mellow masters in their disarray Behind museum doors! These gipsy kings! I'd set them singing, tucked beneath the chins Of fiddler-folk whose fingers know the way: Prancing like peacocks up the four gay strings! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EXECUTIVE by DAVID IGNATOW BROTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE TEMPTRESS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SHE WEEPS OVER RAHOON by JAMES JOYCE DILIGENCE IS TO MAGIC AS PROGRESS IS TO FLIGHT by MARIANNE MOORE DEDICATION OF THE FIRST SONNETS TO A FRIEND ... by GEORGE SANTAYANA |