Poem by Lola Ridge

The Fiddler

In a little Hungarian cafe
Men and women are drinking
Yellow wine in tall goblets.

Through the milky haze of the smoke,
The fiddler, under-sized, blond,
Leans to his violin
As to the breast of a woman.
Red hair kindles to fire
On the black of his coat-sleeve,
Where his white thin hand
Trembles and dives,
Like a sliver of moonlight,
When wind has broken the water.

1. Broadway
2. “The Everlasting Return”
3. Dispossed
4. Fuel
5. Dawn Wind

Marion Angus The Fiddler ("A fine player was he")

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