 | Young Maids & Old China |  |
THE SPINET.
Tenderly, tiny fingers
Touch my yellow keys!
But little sweetness lingers
In strings so old as these.
Touch my yellow keys!
But little sweetness lingers
In strings so old as these.
Yet at your light touch waken
Dreams that I thought were dead,
Of places long forsaken,
Faces for ever fled.
Dreams that I thought were dead,
Of places long forsaken,
Faces for ever fled.
Other hands, as slender,
Seem to be playing again;
Another voice, as tender,
Is singing the same old strain.
Seem to be playing again;
Another voice, as tender,
Is singing the same old strain.
To me she turns in gladness,
A voice for joy to borrow;
To me she tells her sadness,
And my low notes answer, Sorrow!
A voice for joy to borrow;
To me she tells her sadness,
And my low notes answer, Sorrow!
I have never given another
My heart's full sweetness so,
As I gave your mother's mother,
Dear children, long ago.
My heart's full sweetness so,
As I gave your mother's mother,
Dear children, long ago.
Sweet are your childish voices,
Though I cannot echo your lays;
My spirit with you rejoices,
As I dream of bygone days.
Though I cannot echo your lays;
My spirit with you rejoices,
As I dream of bygone days.
| Young Maids & Old China | |