Laurella and other poems by John Todhunter |
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 | Laurella and other poems |  |
91
CÄCILCHEN AT THE PIANO.
‘She drew an angel down.’
I.
Sat a maiden playingIn the twilight lone;
Through the window straying
Went the music's tone.
II.
In their gleeful labourFast her fingers flew
Through some piece of Weber,
Fiery, strange, and new;
Valse, or quaint toccata,
Rondo, fantaisie,
Saraband, sonata—
At them all went she.
III.
Spells Mozart and HaydnWrought in moods of power,
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Idling for an hour;
Themes that shook Beethoven
In the dusk she played,
(Which the little sloven
Murdered, I'm afraid).
IV.
Hark a step! How wide herBlues eyes open can!
In three strides beside her
Stands the queerest man,
Silent, quaint in vesture,
(How small hearts can beat!)
With imperious gesture
Waving her from her seat.
V.
She with awed amazementSilently obeys;
Slamming to the casement,
Down he sits and plays.
VI.
What her flippant fingersDashed at anyhow,
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Ravishingly now.
In another fashion
Speak the rushing keys—
What immortal passion!
Surging harmonies,
Melodies how tender,
Tones beyond all words,
Tempest-bursts that render
Up the ghost in chords;
Music's rapturous ocean
Billowing through the room,
Mysteries of emotion
Sighing in the gloom.
VII.
Spell-bound sat the maiden,Gazing o'er the sea
Blankly, while he played, in
Deepest reverie,
Till, by silence startled,
Quick she raised her eyes,
When no more his art held
Speechless with surprise.
With an eager question
Turned she. He had flown—
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Like a ghost was gone!
VIII.
So she sat in wonder,Musing in the gloom,
When the tuneful thunder
Lone had left the room;
Then her heart beat faster,
And her cheek grew hot;
‘Lo, it was the Master,
And I knew him not!’
| Laurella and other poems | |