SONNET OF HOMAGE TO MANUEL DE FALLA OFFERING HIM FLOWERS

Warm-hearted shining silver lyre
of steady beat and supple nerve,
you conjure with your hands of love
voices and fronds of Spanish fire.

In our own blood the wellsprings flow
from which your thoughts and visions stream:
clean algebra of tranquil brow,
passion and discipline of dream.

Sing, eight lands of Andalucia,
wind in the olives, oars on sea,
Manuel de Falla's alegría.

Friends of your house, now, offering
our pure and simple amity,
these flowers and sprigs of bay we bring.