Fiddler's Farewell/Paganini's Violins
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
Paganini's Violins
(Genoa)
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 jocund venture of your keen-edged cry?
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.
Know less of song than these. O mournful two,
Birds of Cremona, what shall rouse in you
The jocund venture of your keen-edged cry?
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 gypsy 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!
These mellow masters in their disarray
Behind museum doors, these gypsy 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!