I WHAT is her playing like? I ask -- while dreaming here under her music's power. 'T is like the leaves of the dark passion-flower Which grows on a strong vine whose roots, oh, deep they sink, Deep in the ground, that flower's pure life to drink. II What is her playing like? 'T is like a bird Who, singing in a wild-wood, never knows That its lone melody is heard By wandering mortal, who forgets his heavy woes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HIS WATCH, WHEN HE COULD NOT SLEEP by EDWARD HERBERT THE HEART KNOWETH ITS OWN BITTERNESS' (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI COME UP FROM THE FIELDS FATHER by WALT WHITMAN ADMONITION [TO A TRAVELLER] by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH MELANCHOLIE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |