by Dorothea Barth ©2008
Steiner Street was inspired by a visit to the boyhood home of legendary violinist Yehudi Menuhin.
Onto the street where music thrived,
Past boyhood park of glee,
With wonder we arrive to see
One thousand forty-three.
Steiner Street stands silent,
But when our car rolls in,
Glass breaks beneath a tire,
Reminder in the din
That everything must change and turn,
A biblical decree;
Whereto the spirit once within
Who played so splendidly?
Steiner house stands silent,
Victorian abode,
Mozart, Bach, and Schubert,
Gone from where once they glowed.
A chosen cherub blossomed here,
Fleet fingers, golden bow,
Sublime endeavor bearing fruit,
Beloved by Apollo.
Steiner house stands silent,
Soft lavender its hues,
Alluring are its secrets,
Bright boyhood and the muse.
Will you not share your story now?
Chimes curiosity;
In stillness comes the answer:
What can I offer thee?
Stringful house stands silent,
As decades disappear,
Contemplation deepens,
Is that Chaconne I hear?
Enchanting old adjacent inn
Welcomes us to see
The history and fair façade
Of Chateau Tivoli.
Steiner house stays silent,
At last we must agree,
Discovery awaits us
At next door’s B and B.
A cup of tea, a music stand,
A flute, a violin,
A serenade across the fence
Where once lived Menuhin.
Steiner Street stands silent,
And we go on our way;
As neighbors we will soon return,
If only for a day.
