He lifted up his violin to play.
The curtain went up? Perhaps. If
so,
Charlotta never saw it go.
The famous Fraeulein Gebnitz singing
Only came to her like the ringing
Of bells at a festa
Which swing in the air
And nobody realizes they are there.
They jingle and jangle,
And clang, and bang,
And never a soul could tell whether they rang,
For the plopping of guns and rockets
And the chinking of silver to spend, in ones
pockets,
And the shuffling and clapping of feet,
And the loud flapping
Of flags, with the drums,
As the military comes.
Its a famous tune to walk to,
And I wonder where theyre off to.
Step-step-stepping to the beating of the drums.
But the rhythm changes as though a mist
Were curling and twisting
Over the landscape.
For a moment a rhythmless, tuneless fog
Encompasses her. Then her senses jog
To the breath of a stately minuet.
Herr Altgelts violin is set
In tune to the slow, sweeping bows, and retreats
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2016-03-17
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