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With its adolescent voice,
Fondles it, fingers it,
Breasts it!
Fondles it, fingers it,
Breasts it!
How light it seems,
Swinging between the abdicating finger and thumb,
How frail this unbarred stronghold
Of sweet gold—
All fortunes and all raptures and all dreams—
Kind horn of plenty!
And who shall count the glittering sum?
***
Words for my fiddle now,
Abundance of goodly words:
My deft, my dear,
My witty one
With your brave answer ever ready,
My box of birds,
Crony and hearty,
Winged hubbub,
Tool,
And tear—
Swinging between the abdicating finger and thumb,
How frail this unbarred stronghold
Of sweet gold—
All fortunes and all raptures and all dreams—
Kind horn of plenty!
And who shall count the glittering sum?
***
Words for my fiddle now,
Abundance of goodly words:
My deft, my dear,
My witty one
With your brave answer ever ready,
My box of birds,
Crony and hearty,
Winged hubbub,
Tool,
And tear—
Fiddler, fiddle,
To leave you lying here!
To leave you lying here!
What then?
Stand stripped of music?
Resolutely attain
A dull and obdurate ear
Stand stripped of music?
Resolutely attain
A dull and obdurate ear
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