Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HER GUITAR, by FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HER GUITAR, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: By the fire that loves to tint her
Last Line: This guitar.
Subject(s): Admiration; Guitars


BY the fire that loves to tint her
Cheeks the color of a rose,
While the wanton winds of winter
Lose the landscape in the snows, --
While the air grows keen and bitter,
And the clean-cut silver stars
Tremble in the cold and glitter
Through the twilight's dusky bars, --
In a cosey room where lingers
Happy Time on folded wings,
I am watching five white fingers
Float across six slender strings
Of an old guitar, held lightly, --
Captivated while she sets,
Here and there, five others tightly
On the frets.
Lost in loving contemplation
Of the fair, shy, girlish face
Conscious of no admiration,
Posed with such a charming grace
O'er this instrument some Spanish
Serenader used to keep
Hidden till the sun would vanish
And the birds were fast asleep;
Who, below his loved one's casement,
With the mellow southern moon
Through a leafy interlacement
Shining softly, thrummed a tune:
Did she answer it, I wonder?
Did she frame a sweet reply?
Did she grant the wish made under
Such a sky?
This I know, if she had listened
To the melody I've heard,
Mute confessions must have glistened
In her eyes at every word;
And the very stars above her
Must have whispered, one by one,
Something sentimental of her
When the serenade was done.
For this music has but ended,
And I leave my dreams to find
With the notes are somehow blended
Like confessions of my mind;
And the gentle girl who guesses
What these broken secrets are,
Is the one whose arm caresses
This guitar.




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