Beneath her touch the keys take life, And carol sweetly as a bird At dawn, before the toil and strife Of day are heard; Then, changing, chant a tender song And potent; so a syren's strain Sounds to his ears who, sea-tost long, Sights land again. Spell-bound I stand; her hand, her arm, Her lovely face are all I see; Her beauty and her music charm And capture me. |