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Breakdown
With my night tooth
and my dirt fiddle I
broke down,
nothing to live by
but to play the country
uncle, write
a journal of my journey
to this bed.
Gedichten over het onderwerp: fiddle
Gedichten over het onderwerp “fiddle” op Poets.by.
Full figure
With a fiddle
I go part-
way home
and a bass,
go to bed.
My Fidil is Singing
My fidil is singing
Into the air;
The wind is stirring,
The moon is fair.
A shadow wanders
Along the road;
It stops to listen,
And drops its load.
Dreams for a space
Upon the moon,
Then passes, humming
My mountain tune.
To One Who Comes Now and Then
When you come in, it seems a brighter fire
Crackles upon the hearth invitingly,
The household routine which was wont to tire
Grows full of novelty.
You sit upon our home-upholstered chair
And talk of matters wonderful and strange,
Of books, and travel, customs old which dare
The gods of Time and Change.
Till we with inner word our care refute
Laughing that this our bosoms yet assails,
While there are maidens dancing to a flute
In Andalusian vales.
And sometimes from my shelf of poems you take
And secret meanings to our hearts disclose,
As when the winds of June the mid bush shake
We see the hidden rose.
Blind Jack
I had fiddled all day at the county fair.
But driving home “Butch” Weldy and Jack McGuire,
Who were roaring full, made me fiddle and fiddle
To the song of Susie Skinner, while whipping the horses
Till they ran away. Blind as I was, I tried to get out
As the carriage fell in the ditch,
And was caught in the wheels and killed.
There’s a blind man here with a brow
As big and white as a cloud.
And all we fiddlers, from highest to lowest,
Writers of music and tellers of stories
Sit at his feet,
And hear him sing of the fall of Troy.