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 cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our
Guide.

So now it is vain for the singer to burst in 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.




Note: This is a beautiful work by D. H. Lawrence that J. wishes to share with all his viewers. There's this thing about that piano that always get him all soft and comfy inside , don't you feel it sometime? Hope you guys like this as well.