How a Little Girl Sang

 Ah, she was music in herself, 
A symphony of joyousness.
 
She sang, she sang from finger tips, 
From every tremble of her dress.
 
I saw sweet haunting harmony, 
An ecstasy, an ecstasy, 
In that strange curling of her lips, 
That happy curling of her lips.
 
And quivering with melody 
Those eyes I saw, that tossing head.
 

And so I saw what music was, 
Tho' still accursed with ears of lead.

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...