Classic Poem

The crowder's tune
Down a street in Babylon—
His fiddle to the moon
With notes like stars that one by one
Glittered upon the empty street,
Glittered and laughed and went
(But there was a lisp of ghostly feet)
To build a firmament.

“Who walks by night in Babylon?
‘I,’ said a lady, ‘because
Of the wonderful thing I was,
And the beautiful things all done,
I walk in Babylon.’

Who seeks for a lady by night?
‘I,’ said a king, ‘My throne
Is empty in Babylon.
She fled from the light to the light,
I seek for a lady by night.’

Who calls by night in Babylon?
‘They,’ answered love, ‘Yes over and over
She calls to her God, but he to his lover,
And each of them walks by night alone,
And they will not meet in Babylon.’”
The crowder played
His little tune, almost
As though he were afraid
Of some forgotten ghost
Awakening,
And crying on the string
Of what was lost
And would not come
Again.
He feared in vain.
For the ghost, the ghost is dumb
Of love that is past over,
And the merciless laughter of the moon
Pursues the ghostly lover,
Till in the empty street
There's an end of the lisp of feet,
And the crowder breaks his fiddle and the tune,
And all the stars are gone