Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TILDY IN THE CHOIR, by FREDERIC LAWRENCE KNOWLES


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TILDY IN THE CHOIR, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Lines that ripple, notes that dance
Last Line: Tildy still is in the choir!
Alternate Author Name(s): Paget, R. L.
Subject(s): Choirs


LINES that ripple, notes that dance,
Foreign measures brought from France,
Reaching with a careless ease
From high C to -- where you please,
Clever, frivolous, and gay --
These will answer in their way;
But that tune of long ago --
Stately, solemn, somewhat slow
(Dear "Old Hundred" -- that's the air) --
Will outrank them anywhere;
Once it breathed a seraph's fire.
(Tildy sang it in the choir.)

How she stood up straight and tall!
Ah! again I see it all;
Cheeks that glowed and eyes that laughed,
Teeth like cream, and lips that quaffed
All the genial country's wealth
Of large cheer and perfect health,
Gown -- well, yes -- old-fashioned quite,
You would call it "just a fright,"
But I love that quaint attire.
(Tildy wore it in the choir.)

How we sang -- for I was there,
Occupied a singer's chair
Next to -- well, no prouder man
Ever lifts the bass, nor can,
Sometimes held the self-same book,
(How my nervous fingers shook!)
Sometimes -- wretch -- while still the air
Echoed to the parson's prayer,
I would whisper in her ear
What she could not help but hear.
Once, I told her my desire.
(Tildy promised in the choir.)

Well, those days are past, and now
Come gray hairs, and yet somehow
I can't think those years have fled --
Still those roadways know my tread,
Still I climb that old pine stair,
Sit upon the stiff-backed chair,
Stealing glances toward my left
Till her eyes repay the theft;
Death's a dream and Time's a liar --
Tildy still is in the choir.

Come, Matilda number two,
Fin de siecle maiden you!
Wonder if you'd like to see
Her I loved in fifty-three?
Yes? All right, then go and find
Mother's picture -- "Papa!" -- Mind!
She and I were married. You
Were our youngest. Now you, too,
Raise the same old anthems till
All the church is hushed and still
With a single soul to hear.
Do I flatter? Ah, my dear,
Time has brought my last desire --
Tildy still is in the choir!





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