YOUR fingers o'er the keys were idly straying,
The sunset glow still lingered on your face;
The languor of the early-summer twilight
Like gentle spell had fallen on the place.
A chain of music you were softly weaving,
Advertisement
Long links of melody sank on the air;
With purest voice your inmost heart was telling
The secret of its maiden beauty rare.
Enthralled I bowed before the magic power
Which link by link you wove into the chain.
That golden eve you bound me fast your captive;
Not for the world would I be free again.
H. G. H.
Want to keep up with breaking news?
Subscribe to our email newsletter.
Read more in News
Notice.
