"WHY do you sit, O pale thin man, At the end of the room By that harpsichord, built on the quaint old plan? -- It is cold as a tomb, And there's not a spark within the grate; And the jingling wires Are as vain desires That have lagged too late." "Why do I? Alas, far times ago A woman lyred here In the evenfall; one who fain did so From year to year; And, in loneliness bending wistfully, Would wake each note In sick sad rote, None to listen or see! "I would not join. I would not stay, But drew away, Though the winter fire beamed brightly. . . . Aye! I do to-day What I would not then; and the chill old keys, Like a skull's brown teeth Loose in their sheath, Freeze my touch; yes, freeze." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY by SIDNEY LANIER THE CANDLE by KATHERINE MANSFIELD A LITTLE BOY LOST, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE PUTTIN' THE BABY AWAY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE SHIPWRECK, SELECTION by WILLIAM FALCONER THE DREARY CHANGE by WALTER SCOTT UNSOPHISTICATED WISHES, BY MISS JEMINA INGOLDSBY, AGED 15 by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM POTTERY MAKER by MARGARET MARCHAND BROWN ON SEEING A YOUTH AFFECTIONATELY WELCOMED BY A SISTER by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |