The street organ plays
Its blithe tune through the town,,
Winding down the alleys with the yellow
leaves
It meanders down bleak avenues where
The copper-green monuments stare
At nothing...
It passes them by unheard,
Waltzes with the ribbons of distant winter air,
The messengers of snow...
Moon-struck and gold.
It croons with the lullbabys that full
The babies back to wombs,
Confuses time with its merry sombre chiming,
calling back the old,
Conjures daughters, lovers, sons,
Fears, mothers, seasons, minutes,
Lost and found, lost love, spring and nothing.
She sings like a bird that wakes up warm
And thinks the winter's over.
The street organ's music is heard
For the first time here and the last time
there
And not at all.
Cathedral quiet and narcotic seas
In a mind of tide-mark memories...
The strand of hair that falls in front of her face...
He woke up and called out her name
But only the street organ answered.
The street organ plays down every road,
Moon-struck and gold.
