I talk with the leaves of the mulberry tree.
And now I hear, as I sit all alone In the dusk, by another big Santa Fe stone, The souls of the tall corn gathering round And the gay little souls of the gra.s.s in the ground.
Listen to the tale the cotton-wood tells.
Listen to the wind-mills, singing o"er the wells.
Listen to the whistling flutes without price Of myriad prophets out of paradise.
Harken to the wonder That the night-air carries....
Listen... to... the... whisper...
Of... the... prairie... fairies Singing o"er the fairy plain:-- # To the same whispered tune as the Rachel-Jane song-- but very slowly. # "Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet.
Love and glory, Stars and rain, Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet...."
The Firemen"s Ball
Section One
"Give the engines room, Give the engines room."
Louder, faster The little band-master Whips up the fluting, Hurries up the tooting.
He thinks that he stands, # To be read, or chanted, with the heavy buzzing ba.s.s of fire-engines pumping. # The reins in his hands, In the fire-chief"s place In the night alarm chase.
The cymbals whang, The kettledrums bang:-- # In this pa.s.sage the reading or chanting is shriller and higher. # "Clear the street, Clear the street, Clear the street--Boom, boom.
In the evening gloom, In the evening gloom, Give the engines room, Give the engines room, Lest souls be trapped In a terrible tomb."
The sparks and the pine-brands Whirl on high From the black and reeking alleys To the wide red sky.
Hear the hot gla.s.s crashing, Hear the stone steps hissing.
Coal black streams Down the gutters pour.
There are cries for help From a far fifth floor.
For a longer ladder Hear the fire-chief call.
Listen to the music Of the firemen"s ball.
Listen to the music Of the firemen"s ball.
# To be read or chanted in a heavy ba.s.s. # ""Tis the NIGHT Of doom,"
Say the ding-dong doom-bells.
"NIGHT Of doom,"
Say the ding-dong doom-bells.
Faster, faster The red flames come.
"Hum grum," say the engines, "Hum grum grum."
# Shriller and higher. # "Buzz, buzz,"
Says the crowd.
"See, see,"
Calls the crowd.
"Look out,"
Yelps the crowd And the high walls fall:-- Listen to the music Of the firemen"s ball.
Listen to the music Of the firemen"s ball.
# Heavy ba.s.s. # ""Tis the NIGHT Of doom,"
Say the ding-dong doom-bells.
"NIGHT Of doom,"
Say the ding-dong doom-bells.
Whangaranga, whangaranga, Whang, whang, whang, Clang, clang, clangaranga, # Ba.s.s, much slower. # Clang, clang, clang.
Clang--a--ranga-- Clang--a--ranga-- Clang, Clang, Clang.
Listen--to--the--music-- Of the firemen"s ball--
Section Two
"Many"s the heart that"s breaking If we could read them all After the ball is over." (An old song.)
# To be read or sung slowly and softly, in the manner of l.u.s.tful, insinuating music. # Scornfully, gaily The bandmaster sways, Changing the strain That the wild band plays.
With a red and royal intoxication, A tangle of sounds And a syncopation, Sweeping and bending From side to side, Master of dreams, With a peac.o.c.k pride.
A lord of the delicate flowers of delight He drives compunction Back through the night.
Dreams he"s a soldier Plumed and spurred, And valiant lads Arise at his word, Flaying the sober Thoughts he hates, Driving them back From the dream-town gates.
How can the languorous Dancers know The red dreams come # To be read or chanted slowly and softly in the manner of l.u.s.tful insinuating music. # When the good dreams go?
""Tis the NIGHT Of love,"
Call the silver joy-bells, "NIGHT Of love,"
Call the silver joy-bells.
"Honey and wine, Honey and wine.
Sing low, now, violins, Sing, sing low, Blow gently, wood-wind, Mellow and slow.
Like midnight poppies The sweethearts bloom.
Their eyes flash power, Their lips are dumb.
Faster and faster Their pulses come, Though softer now The drum-beats fall.
Honey and wine, Honey and wine.
"Tis the firemen"s ball, "Tis the firemen"s ball.
# With a climax of whispered mourning. # "I am slain,"
Cries true-love There in the shadow.
"And I die,"
Cries true-love, There laid low.
"When the fire-dreams come, The wise dreams go."
# Suddenly interrupting. To be read or sung in a heavy ba.s.s. First eight lines as harsh as possible.
Then gradually musical and sonorous. # BUT HIS CRY IS DROWNED BY THE PROUD BAND-MASTER.
And now great gongs whang, Sharper, faster, And kettledrums rattle And hide the shame With a swish and a swirk In dead love"s name.
Red and crimson And scarlet and rose Magical poppies The sweethearts bloom.
The scarlet stays When the rose-flush goes, And love lies low In a marble tomb.
""Tis the NIGHT Of doom,"
Call the ding-dong doom-bells.
"NIGHT Of Doom,"
Call the ding-dong doom-bells.
# Sharply interrupting in a very high key. # Hark how the piccolos still make cheer.
""Tis a moonlight night in the spring of the year."
# Heavy ba.s.s. # CLANGARANGA, CLANGARANGA, CLANG... CLANG... CLANG.
CLANG... A... RANGA...
CLANG... A... RANGA...
CLANG... CLANG... CLANG...
LISTEN... TO... THE... MUSIC...
OF... THE... FIREMEN"S BALL...
LISTEN... TO... THE... MUSIC...
OF... THE... FIREMEN"S... BALL....