This is a really terrific poem and one which lingers in the mind. Puts me in mind of a song I heard a few times in childhood which begins;”I was seated one day at the organ, weary and I’ll at ease..” – The Lost Chord. Lawrence’s poem is less melodramatic but sweetly evocative.
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 of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.
So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.
D. H. Lawrence (1885 – 1930)
The poem consists of rhyming across each double line. And…
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