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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
VIOLINISTE, by WILDER DWIGHT QUINT
First Line: Under your rounded chin
Last Line: Deftly your fingers go.
Subject(s): Violins
First Line: Under your rounded chin
Last Line: Deftly your fingers go.
Subject(s): Violins
UNDER your rounded chin
The polished wood of your violin
Comes lengthening down to your slender hand,
Where a bit of ribbon (a silken band)
Flutters and floats. 'T were better planned
To be under your rounded chin.
Now from your snowy throat
Swells on the air a soft, sweet note;
And, caught in a perfect chord by the strings,
Its cadence rises and falls and swings,
And I listen enrapt as the melody rings
Up from your snowy throat.
Deftly your fingers go
O'er the quivering strings, now high, now low,
And words that speak from the music start,
And for me thrill the world in its every part,
Until I feel that over my heart
Deftly your fingers go.
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