song tournament, new style - louis untermeyer lyrics
rain, said the first, as it falls in venice
is like the dropping of golden pennies
into a sea as smooth and bright
as a bowl of curdled malachite
storm, sang the next, in the streets of peking
is like the ghost of a yellow sea*king
scooping the dust to find if he may
discover what earth has hidden away
the mist, sighed the third, that lies on london
is the wraith of beauty, betrayed and undone
by a world of dark machines that plan
to splinter the shaken soul of man
the rush of spring, smiled the fourth, in florence
is wave upon wave of laughing torrents
a flood of birds, a water*voiced calling
a green rain rising instead of falling
the wind, cried the fifth, in the bay of naples
is a quarrel of leaves among the maples
a war of sunbeams idly fanned
a whisper softer than sand on sand
then spoke the last: god’s endless tears
too great for heaven, anoint the spheres
while every drop becomes a well
in the fathomless, thirsting heart of h*ll
and thus six bards, who could boast of travel
fifty miles from their native gravel
rose in the sunlight and offered their stanzas
at the shrine of the poetry contest in kansas
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