AS a violinist bends a loving face Down to his fiddle, down to the singing bow, So the poet bends down his soul to Beauty's place To hear her voice, and her very heart to know. As the player looks aloft and thrills the strings, So the poet looks to God, and yearns and sings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DIORAMA PAINTER AT THE MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY by KAREN SWENSON WARREN'S ADDRESS [TO THE AMERICANS] [AT BUNKER HILL] [JUNE 17, 1775] by JOHN PIERPONT BUCOLIC COMEDY: AUBADE by EDITH SITWELL A STIRRUP-CUP by DOUGLAS AINSLIE |