 | The poems of Celia Thaxter |  |
MODJESKA
Deft hands called Chopin's music from the keys.Silent she sat, her slender figure's poise
Flower-like and fine and full of lofty ease;
She heard her Poland's most consummate voice
From power to pathos falter, sink and change;
The music of her land, the wondrous high,
Utmost expression of its genius strange,—
Incarnate sadness breathed in melody.
Silent and thrilled she sat, her lovely face
Flushing and paling like a delicate rose
Shaken by summer winds from its repose
Softly this way and that with tender grace,
Now touched by sun, now into shadow turned,—
While bright with kindred fire her deep eyes burned!
| The poems of Celia Thaxter | |