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 parlor, the tinkling piano our guide.
So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamor
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamor
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.
(David Herbert Lawrence)
More Poetry from David Herbert Lawrence:
David Herbert Lawrence Poems based on Topics: Woman, Past, Mothers, Home, Musicians- Bei Hennef (David Herbert Lawrence Poems)
- Drunk (David Herbert Lawrence Poem)
- The Song of a Man Who has Come Through (David Herbert Lawrence Poem)
- If You are a Man (David Herbert Lawrence Poem)
- Patience (David Herbert Lawrence Poem)
- Nothing To Save (David Herbert Lawrence Poem)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Home Poems, Past Poems, Woman Poems, Mothers Poems, Musicians PoemsBased on Keywords: tinkling, clamor, parlor, mastery, betrays, insidious, tingling, glamor, cozy, vista