Webster Ford

Listen to:

Webster Ford (2:16)

from Spoon River Anthology
by Edgar Lee Masters

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Do you remember, O Delphic Apollo,
  The sunset hour by the river, when Mickey M'Grew
  Cried, "There's a ghost," and I, "It's Delphic Apollo,".
  And the son of the banker derided us, saying, "It's light
  By the flags at the water's edge, you half-witted fools."
  And from thence, as the wearisome years rolled on, long after
  Poor Mickey fell down in the water tower to his death
  Down, down, through bellowing darkness, I carried
  The vision which perished with him like a rocket which falls
  And quenches its light in earth, and hid it for fear
  Of the son of the banker, calling on Plutus to save me?
  Avenged were you for the shame of a fearful heart
  Who left me alone till I saw you again in an hour
  When I seemed to be turned to a tree with trunk and branches
  Growing indurate, turning to stone, yet burgeoning
  In laurel leaves, in hosts of lambent laurel,
  Quivering, fluttering, shrinking, fighting the numbness
  Creeping into their veins from the dying trunk and branches!
  'Tis vain, O youth, to fly the call of Apollo.
  Fling yourselves in the fire, die with a song of spring,
  If die you must in the spring. For none shall look
  On the face of Apollo and live, and choose you must
  'Twixt death in the flame and death after years of sorrow,
  Rooted fast in the earth, feeling the grisly hand,
  Not so much in the trunk as in the terrible numbness
  Creeping up to the laurel leaves that never cease
  To flourish until you fall. O leaves of me
  Too sere for coronal wreaths, and fit alone
  For urns of memory, treasured, perhaps, as themes
  For hearts heroic, fearless singers and livers--
  Delphic Apollo.