Babbitt Attends a Recital
And I was sure that I would nod.
The artist, going strong,
Was playing it, I guess, for God.
Too long, it seemed,
For change, I balanced knee on knee.
I nodded, dreamed,
I waked, and nudged the woman next to me.
I felt quite bored
But turned, expecting to apologise.
Yes, turned. Good lord!
I wish you'd seen that woman and her eyes.
That whole vast mob
Had slipped away from her, I guess;
One broken sob
Heaved in her throat and burst her dress.
They were forgot
And even God or I would need a telephone.
Yes, gone to pot!
And Paderewski and that woman were alone.
__Margaret E. Haughawout.
Margaret E. Haughawout
(Pittsburg, Kansas: __. 1929)