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]1 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 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.2
1 Warren: "foot"
2 Warren here repeats the firt line.
- by D. H. (David Herbert) Lawrence (1885 - 1930), "Piano" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
This text (or a part of it) is used in a work
- by Matthew King (b. 1967), "A song (without and with accompaniment)", 2006 [soprano, mezzo-soprano soli, chorus, and orchestra], from The Season of Singing, no. 4..
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2010-04-10
Line count: 12
Word count: 133