PIANO - by D. H. Lawrence

PIANO by  D. H. Lawrence      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.