POEMS: “Piano” by D.H. Lawrence

Piano

Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;

Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see

A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the

tingling strings

And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who

smiles as she sings.

In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song

Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong

To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter

outside

And hymns in the cozy parlour, the tinkling piano

our guide.

So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour

With the great black piano appassionato. The

glamour

Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast

Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a

child for the past.

by D.H. Lawrence