by Leonie Adams
When tunes jigged nimbler than the blood
And quick and high the bows would prance
And every fiddle string would burst
To catch what's lost beyond the string,
While half afraid their children stood,
I saw the old come out to dance.
The heart is not so light at first,
But heavy like a bough in spring.
From:
Poems : A Selection
Copyright ©:
1959, The Noonday Press
Last updated May 15, 2023