The Opening of the Piano
IN the little southern parlor of tbe house you may have seen
With the gambrel-roof, and the gable looking westward to the green,
At the side toward the sunset, with the window on its right,
Stood the London-made piano I am dreaming of to-night!
Ah me! how I remember the evening when it came!
What a cry of eager voices, what a group of cheeks in flame,
When the wondrous box was opened that had come from over seas,
With its smell of mastic-varnish and its flash of ivory keys!
Then the children all grew fretful in the restlessness of joy,
For the boy would push his sister, and the sister crowd the boy,
Till the father asked for quiet in his grave paternal way,
But the mother hushed the tumult with the words, “Now, Mary, play.”
For the dear soul knew that music was a very sovereign balm;
She had sprinkled it over Sorrow and seen its brow grow calm,
In the days of slender harpsichords with
Or carolling to her spinet with its thin metallic thrills.
So Mary, the household minstrel, who always loved to please,
Sat down to the new “Clementi,” and struck the glittering keys.
Hushed were the children’s voices, and every eye grew dim,
As, floating from lip and finger, arose the “Vesper Hymn.”
Catharine, child of a neighbor, curly and rosy-red,
(Wedded since, and a widow, something like ten years dead,)
Hearing a gush of music such as none before,
Steals from her mother’s chamber and peeps at the open door.
Just as the “Jubilate” in threaded whisper dies,
“Open it! open it, lady!” the little maiden cries,
(For she thought ‘t was a singing creature caged in a box she heard,)
“Open it! open it, lady! and let me see the bird!”
Related poetry:
- The Piano (Notebook Version) Somewhere beneath that piano’s superb sleek black Must hide my mother’s piano, little and brown with the back That stood close to the wall, and the front’s faded silk, both torn And the keys with little hollows, that my mother’s fingers had worn. Softly, in the shadows, a woman is singing to me Quietly, through […]...
- The Player Piano I ate pancakes one night in a Pancake House Run by a lady my age. She was gay. When I told her that I came from Pasadena She laughed and said, “I lived in Pasadena When Fatty Arbuckle drove the El Molino bus.” I felt that I had met someone from home. No, not Pasadena, […]...
- The Piano-Organ My student-lamp is lighted, The books and papers are spread; A sound comes floating upwards, Chasing the thoughts from my head. I open the garret window, Let the music in and the moon; See the woman grin for coppers, While the man grinds out the tune. Grind me a dirge or a requiem, Or a […]...
- Faure's Second Piano Quartet On a day like this the rain comes Down in fat and random drops among The ailanthus leaves -“the tree Of Heaven” – the leaves that on moon- Lit nights shimmer black and blade- Shaped at this third-floor window. And there are bunches of small green Knobs, buds, crowded together. The Rapid music fills in […]...
- 371. Song-Lady Mary Ann O LADY Mary Ann looks o’er the Castle wa’, She saw three bonie boys playing at the ba’, The youngest he was the flower amang them a’, My bonie laddie’s young, but he’s growin’ yet. O father, O father, an ye think it fit, We’ll send him a year to the college yet, We’ll sew […]...
- The Violent Space (Or When Your Sister Sleeps Around For Money) Exchange in greed the ungraceful signs. Thrust The thick notes between green apple breasts. Then the shadow of the devil descends, The violent space cries and angel eyes, Large and dark, retreat in innocence and in ice. (Run sister run-the Bugga man comes!) The violent space cries silently, Like you cried wide years ago In […]...
- The Little Peach A little peach in the orchard grew, A little peach of emerald hue; Warmed by the sun and wet by the dew, It grew. One day, passing that orchard through, That little peach dawned on the view Of Johnny Jones and his sister Sue Them two. Up at that peach a club they threw Down […]...
- The Opening and the Close The Opening and the Close Of Being, are alike Or differ, if they do, As Bloom upon a Stalk. That from an equal Seed Unto an equal Bud Go parallel, perfected In that they have decayed....
- Opening the Geode When the molten earth seethed In its whirling cauldron Nobody watched the pot From a tall wooden stool Set out in windy space Beyond flame’s reach; And when the spattering mush Steamed, gurgled, boiled over, Mounded up in smoking hills No giant mixing spoon Smoothed out the lumps and bubbles As the pottage cooled to […]...
- Rice Pudding What is the matter with Mary Jane? She’s crying with all her might and main, And she won’t eat her dinner – rice pudding again – What is the matter with Mary Jane? What is the matter with Mary Jane? I’ve promised her dolls and a daisy-chain, And a book about animals – all in […]...
- Opening of the Railway Line The opening of the railway line… The Governor and all, With flags and banners down the street, A banquet and a ball, Hark to them at the station now! They’re raising cheer on cheer, The man who brought the railway through, Our friend the engineer....
- 191. Song-Theniel Menzies' Bonie Mary IN comin by the brig o’ Dye, At Darlet we a blink did tarry; As day was dawnin in the sky, We drank a health to bonie Mary. Chorus.-Theniel Menzies’ bonie Mary, Theniel Menzies’ bonie Mary, Charlie Grigor tint his plaidie, Kissin’ Theniel’s bonie Mary. Her een sae bright, her brow sae white, Her haffet […]...
- Constance Hately You praise my self-sacrifice, Spoon River, In rearing Irene and Mary, Orphans of my older sister! And you censure Irene and Mary For their contempt of me! But praise not my self-sacrifice, And censure not their contempt; I reared them, I cared for them, true enough! But I poisoned my benefactions With constant reminders of […]...
- On Opening a Place for Social Prayer Jesus! where’er Thy people meet, There they behold Thy mercy seat; Where’er they seek Thee, Thou art found, And every place is hallow’d ground. For Thou, within no walls confined, Inhabitest the humble mind; Such ever bring Thee where they come And going, take Thee to their home. Dear Shepherd of Thy chosen few! Thy […]...
- About the Little Girl that Beat Her Sister Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss Your little sister dear; I must not have such things as this, And noisy quarrels here. What! little children scratch and fight, That ought to be so mild; Oh! Mary, it’s a shocking sight To see an angry child. I can’t imagine, for my part, The reason for […]...
- Piano Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me; Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings. In spite of myself, the insidious mastery […]...
- Piano Practice The summer hums. The afternoon fatigues; She breathed her crisp white dress distractedly And put into it that sharply etched etude Her impatience for a reality That could come: tomorrow, this evening, That perhaps was there, was just kept hidden; And at the window, tall and having everything, She suddenly could feel the pampered park. […]...
- Early In The Morning I Hear On Your Piano EARLY in the morning I hear on your piano You (at least, I guess it’s you) proceed to learn to play. Mostly little minds should take and tackle their piano While the birds are singing in the morning of the day....
- 239. Song-My Bonie Mary GO, fetch to me a pint o’ wine, And fill it in a silver tassie; That I may drink before I go, A service to my bonie lassie. The boat rocks at the pier o’ Leith; Fu’ loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry; The ship rides by the Berwick-law, And I maun leave my […]...
- Our Lady MOTHER of God! no lady thou: Common woman of common earth Our Lady ladies call thee now, But Christ was never of gentle birth; A common man of the common earth. For God’s ways are not as our ways: The noblest lady in the land Would have given up half her days, Would have cut […]...
- Manual System MARY has a thingamajig clamped on her ears And sits all day taking plugs out and sticking plugs in. Flashes and flashes-voices and voices calling for ears to pour words in Faces at the ends of wires asking for other faces at the ends of other wires: All day taking plugs out and sticking plugs […]...
- To Mary The twentieth year is well nigh past Since first our sky was overcast;- Ah would that this might be the last! My Mary! Thy spirits have a fainter flow, I see thee daily weaker grow;- ‘Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary! Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, […]...
- 108. SongвЂ"Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary? WILL ye go to the Indies, my Mary, And leave auld Scotia’s shore? Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, Across th’ Atlantic roar? O sweet grows the lime and the orange, And the apple on the pine; But a’ the charms o’ the Indies Can never equal thine. I hae sworn by the […]...
- I Saw Thy Form in Youthful Prime I saw thy form in youthful prime, Nor thought that pale decay Would steal before the steps of Time, And waste its bloom away, Mary! Yet still thy features wore that light, Which fleets not with the breath; And life ne’er look’d more truly bright Than in thy smile of death, Mary! As streams that […]...
- May Magnificat May is Mary’s month, and I Muse at that and wonder why: Her feasts follow reason, Dated due to season- Candlemas, Lady Day; But the Lady Month, May, Why fasten that upon her, With a feasting in her honour? Is it only its being brighter Than the most are must delight her? Is it opportunest […]...
- The May Magnificat May is Mary’s month, and I Muse at that and wonder why: Her feasts follow reason, Dated due to season- Candlemas, Lady Day; But the Lady Month, May, Why fasten that upon her, With a feasting in her honour? Is it only its being brighter Than the most are must delight her? Is it opportunest […]...
- 159. Song-My Lord a-Hunting he is gane Chorus.-MY lady’s gown, there’s gairs upon’t, And gowden flowers sae rare upon’t; But Jenny’s jimps and jirkinet, My lord thinks meikle mair upon’t. My lord a-hunting he is gone, But hounds or hawks wi’ him are nane; By Colin’s cottage lies his game, If Colin’s Jenny be at hame. My lady’s gown, &c. My lady’s […]...
- The Black Swan When the swans turned my sister into a swan I would go to the lake, at night, from milking: The sun would look out through the reeds like a swan, A swan’s red beak; and the beak would open And inside there was darkness, the stars and the moon. Out on the lake, a girl […]...
- Swing Song The blatant horns blare strident sound; Delighted, you laugh and seize My passive arm, but I have found Content in the harmonies. They sound, are silent; please or annoy, Are not clever, cruel, or coy Like human qualities. See agile fingers in frantic flight Along the smoking row Of piano keys cut from ebony night […]...
- Brother And Sister “SISTER, sister, go to bed! Go and rest your weary head.” Thus the prudent brother said. “Do you want a battered hide, Or scratches to your face applied?” Thus his sister calm replied. “Sister, do not raise my wrath. I’d make you into mutton broth As easily as kill a moth” The sister raised her […]...
- John Kinsella's Lament For Mrs. Mary Moore I A bloody and a sudden end, Gunshot or a noose, For Death who takes what man would keep, Leaves what man would lose. He might have had my sister, My cousins by the score, But nothing satisfied the fool But my dear Mary Moore, None other knows what pleasures man At table or in […]...
- Mary Morison O Mary, at thy window be, It is the wished, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser’s treasure poor: How blythely wad I bide the stour, A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison. Yestreen, when to the trembling […]...
- Plague Victims Catapulted Over Walls Into Besieged City Early germ Warfare. The dead Hurled this way look like wheels In the sky. Look: there goes Larry the Shoemaker, barefoot, over the wall, And Mary Sausage Stuffer, see how she flies, And the Hatter twins, both at once, soar Over the parapet, little Tommy’s elbow bent As if in a salute, And his sister, […]...
- 14. Song-Mary Morison O MARY, at thy window be, It is the wish’d, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser’s treasure poor: How blythely was I bide the stour, A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison. Yestreen, when to the trembling […]...
- The Angel Food Dogs Leaping, leaping, leaping, Down line by line, Growling at the cadavers, Filling the holy jugs with their piss, Falling into windows and mauling the parents, But soft, kiss-soft, And sobbing sobbing Into their awful dog dish. No point? No twist for you In my white tunnel? Let me speak plainly, Let me whisper it from […]...
- Social Note Lady, lady, should you meet One whose ways are all discreet, One who murmurs that his wife Is the lodestar of his life, One who keeps assuring you That he never was untrue, Never loved another one. . . Lady, lady, better run!...
- The Craftsman Once, after long-drawn revel at The Mermaid, He to the overbearing Boanerges Jonson, uttered (if half of it were liquor, Blessed be the vintage!) Saying how, at an alehouse under Cotswold, He had made sure of his very Cleopatra, Drunk with enormous, salvation-con temning Love for a tinker. How, while he hid from Sir Thomas’s […]...
- The Breast One night a woman’s breast came to a man’s room and Began to talk about her twin sister. Her twin sister this and her twin sister that. Finally the man said, but what about you, dear breast? And so the breast spent the rest of the night talking about Herself. It was the same as […]...
- In the Smoking Car The eyelids meet. He’ll catch a little nap. The grizzled, crew-cut head drops to his chest. It shakes above the briefcase on his lap. Close voices breathe, “Poor sweet, he did his best.” “Poor sweet, poor sweet,” the bird-hushed glades repeat, Through which in quiet pomp his litter goes, Carried by native girls with naked […]...
- For the Moore Centennial Celebration I ENCHANTER of Erin, whose magic has bound us, Thy wand for one moment we fondly would claim, Entranced while it summons the phantoms around us That blush into life at the sound of thy name. The tell-tales of memory wake from their slumbers, I hear the old song with its tender refrain, What passion […]...