Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THE ANSWERER, by RUTH COMFORT MITCHELL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO THE ANSWERER, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: So now we are summoned together to worship and
Last Line: The open road!
Alternate Author Name(s): Young, Sanborn, Mrs.
Subject(s): Poetry & Poets


So now we are summoned together to worship and set down our worshippings?
You who "put things in their attitudes," what shall we say of you?
How shall we say it?
Pioneer, Emigrant, Seeker, and Trail Blazer,
Voice of our time, --
In puny tunes, after your thunderings,
In a thin tinkle of rhyme?

We must come to you each in his fashion
And make a Romanza;
Some in red riots of wording and some in pale passion;
There are those who are lyric and lovely
And those who are ugly and strong;
You -- having "the pass-key of hearts" -- will you weave us
In a good pattern? -- "Eye-singers, head-singers, weird-singers"
In a mosaic of song.

There is Margaret Widdemer's lute;
Its tone is as warm as her cheek;
Amelia Josephine Burr will be calling and thralling you
With the clear call of her flute;
And Edgar Lee Masters shall come
To make you grave music upon his bass viol
And brave music, bleak and unbeautiful, on his bass drum.
There is Edwin Arlington Robinson
To build compositions
Deep and difficult, brilliant, arresting,
At the pianoforte,
And Louis Ledoux's cool harmonies
In the depth of the temple,
In the high-ceiled Inner Court,
And then Clement Wood shall pipe you away to the downs
(Especially if it be April!)
But you will come back to hear
The perfect melody, poignant and pure and crystal-clear
Of Sara Teasdale's harp,
And William Rose Benet's blithe bugle,
Very sweet, very sharp,
Routing you out for the new things, the true things,
And when you hear the bag-pipes
Skirling, whirling,
Calling men out of the bonds that bind them
To dull days and drab ways,
You will know Vachel Lindsay's behind them,
And when you hear a delicate old rigadoon
On a rosewood spinnet
You'll think you know
Sarah Cleghorn, but she may straightway blow
A blast on a tremendous trumpet,
And then you'll meet
Mary Carolyn Davies with her happy little hurdy-gurdy
Trundling tunes in every stuffy street
Till they open windows and doors to the sun and air, --
Tunes to make you chuckle, tunes to make you grieve,
And Amy Lowell, amazing, incredible craftsman,
Technician, magician,
Beating her brassy cymbals very loudly
So you may not suspect the pipe-organ up her sleeve!
And at last, at the end of the day,
Witter Bynner will tuck his violin
Under his chin
Sitting cross-legged in the fire-light,
And play the heart out of you (Even You, Answerer!)
Play the heart in.

"Ear-singers, love-singers, night-singers"
Singing to make your romanza,
Bringing you tribute, little or large,
Never quite knowing you,
Yet more nearly "strong and content" because of you;
Needing and owing you, --
(Oh, the deep debt we have owed!)
"Usual and near, removed from none . . ."
More nearly able, because of you,
To follow, "afoot and light-hearted,"
The "long brown path" before us --
The open road!




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