And shouts of welcome greet him at the door.
Unlettered man—how rude the jest he flings!
But mark his power to wake the tuneful strings!
The old folks smile and tell how, long ago,
Their feet obeyed the swaying of his bow;
And how the God-sent magic of his art
To thoughts of love inclined the youthful heart,
And shook the bonds of care from aged men
Who 'neath the spell returned to youth again.
He taps the fiddle-back as 'twere a drum;