Fiddler's Farewell/I Heard . . .

by Leonora Speyer

PART III

I heardThe poet pass with a soundLike the breaking of ground,Like a storm, like a violent bird;His head was a king's,And I noted the gay common thingsOf his strange diadem;I was blinded by them.

Crown of weeds!For his brow debonair,For his vagabond needs,Crown of weeds,Bud, berry, thistle and tare:Yes! but who flung the far seeds?