AS a violinist bends a loving face Down to his fiddle, down to the singing bow, So the poet bends down his soul to Beauty's place To hear her voice, and her very heart to know. As the player looks aloft and thrills the strings, So the poet looks to God, and yearns and sings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BALINESE WITCH DOCTOR by KAREN SWENSON SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 20 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING LINCOLN by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER INLAND by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY A VISION UPON [THIS CONCEIT] OF THE FAERIE QUEENE (1) by WALTER RALEIGH |