I WHAT is her playing like? I ask -- while dreaming here under her music's power. 'T is like the leaves of the dark passion-flower Which grows on a strong vine whose roots, oh, deep they sink, Deep in the ground, that flower's pure life to drink. II What is her playing like? 'T is like a bird Who, singing in a wild-wood, never knows That its lone melody is heard By wandering mortal, who forgets his heavy woes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOTHING BUT LEAVES by LUCY EVELINA AKERMAN ON LUCY, COUNTESS OF BEDFORD by BEN JONSON NIGHT AND DAY by SIDNEY LANIER THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY [1621] by MARGARET JUNKIN PRESTON EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 8. BE QUICK AND SURE by PHILIP AYRES |