Witter Bynner - Apollo Troubadour lyrics

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 pa**ed, 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!