Page:Negro poets and their poems (IA negropoetstheirp00kerl).pdf/166

144 No syncopating “jazz” or “blues,” Insults my eager listening ear, But softly as the falling dews, The strains come stealing sweet and clear. With lilting grace they rise above The early traffic’s sordid din— My neighbor boy is making love To his beloved violin. Sometimes I catch a quivering note— An over-burdened wordless cry. I say: “Those are the lines he wrote The day he told some one goodbye.” But when I hear a joyous strain Of melody serene and clear, I smile and say: “All’s well again— The little maiden must be near!” But best of all I love the mood That prompts a soft sweet minor key. My longing soul forgets to brood, While drinking in the melody. My restless spirit will not rove, Nor lose its faith in God and men, The while my neighbor boy makes love To his beloved violin.

A sonnet has already been given from Mrs. Dunbar-Nelson to which I think Mrs. Browning or Christina Rossetti might have appended her signature without detriment to her fame. It is one of a series entitled A Dream Sequence, the