I dreamed I was a virginal, -- The gilt one of Saint Cecily's; Her fingers, like sweet cordial, Went rilling and running along my keys; And round us, with their thin gold rings Above their heads, and clear calm eyes Brimming with strange pure hungerings, The angels listen'd wondering-wise, And press'd their white palms 'thwart the strings, To still their trembling psalteries. I woke, Parde, with a lute in hand, (My lady's the court courtesan!) I'd slept, awaiting her command, For I'm My Lady's minstrel-man; And 'tis my task in the arbour-ring, Or at her chamber door, to wait, And music light to make and sing, And hearts with pleasure to inflate In time to the soft whispering Her lovers woo her with till late; To-night she sups my lord the King, 'Tis time I was a-musicking! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EVENING SONG OF THE THOUGHTFUL CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD NOTES FOR THE FIRST LINE OF A SPANISH POEM by JAMES GALVIN PLEDGE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A GUY I KNOW ON 47TH AND COTTAGE by CLARENCE MAJOR SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DOW BRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELMER BARR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: TENNESSEE CLAFLIN SHOPE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |