Stiff as buckram,
Swathed in black and white
Strict ads the keyboard,
Three tall ladies lean
Forward — confessing distance
Or delight?

The first phrase
Sparkles like the invisible spire
Fountains exhale, O the first notes
Adorn the air.
Surprising as a child’s laugh rising
Higher, higher, higher, the chimes
Must drop — or stop.

Slow, melody climbs again,
Naturally, as a vine grows,
As though the fingers on the piano
Put forth
Buds of sound.
They, too, dewily sparkle.
But, sisters, do you hear
How soon the blithe tones darken, as leaves do,
And their afternoon
Shadows?
Can you recall,
Sisters, the grieving of desire?
Do you fear the advancing shade?
Pray, what shall you do who cannot do
What the piano does when rightly touched?
Even while it smiles, the music
Twinkles like a tear.

As years, years ago for the composer,
Now it is over
For the hearers, for the musician
Drenched in rosy thunders of applause.
She bows
To you, sisters, to all,
As when she leaned above the keyboard she
Bowed to the laws
Governing a strict love.