Page:The Soul of a Century.djvu/115

 And he plays  a piercing torrent He pours out in the tones keen darts Every tone a spark of fire Every spark burns in the heart.

And it sounds as wild complainings Crackles like a flame of blue. You’d expect that any moment His taut string must break in two.

And it moans like winds o'er hillsides Followed by a storm in Spring From the depth it clambers upwards As he plucks the second string.

Wildly and in streams unbounded Now it plays and rings full speed Thus with winds across the prairies Rides a brave’s unfettered steed.

And now softly, as if bated, Like a snake betwixt the grass Prolonged baying as if wolves had Gathered for a deadly clash.

List A knife is being sharpened And another plaintive sound Strangely humming, flock of buzzards Flying low above the ground.

Do you hear their wings aflapping, Fighting for the lifeless form? Suddenly as if touched by magic Something cuts the hellish storm.

And the third string sounds and echoes Tenderly like bells above, Passing as a flash of lightning Gleaming from an eye of love.

Like a nightingale lamenting, Burning like a cup of wine, Like a gypsy fallen wildly In his loved one’s mad entwine.