The Violin

Musician, give a voice to me! Oh quicken wood and string, Unburden me of ecstasy, For I have songs to sing!

Of faces forward through dark rains, Of torn but valiant feet, Of blood that runs in shrinking veins, Of broken hearts that beat.

Of crooked boughs that have kept true The promise to fulfill, Of thwarted roots that yet pursue Their purpose in the hill.

Oh all you safe and smooth of heart Listen to song from me, Whose wooden throat was once a part Of the north side of a tree!