Page:An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry.pdf/114

110  Among the reeds a snipe, black speck, The pond with ripples did bedeck; And likewise in my soul, meseems, Has strayed the bird of golden dreams.

"" (1898)Blossoms of Intimate Moods (1891) [sic].

 

My hands embraced the violin When years had passed, at home again. In tones so void of skill, and thin Quavered the hesitating strain, Quavered the hesitating strain, My tuneful art has taken wings, Alas, 'tis vain! I know but this— My tuneful art has taken wings.

And with desire and longing thrilled, The tender violin to hear, That oft by weeping strains was filled In evenings when the moon shone clear,— In evenings when the moon shone clear!— I pressed more firmly on the strings; Alas, 'tis vain! the string was rent— My tuneful art has taken wings!

And she who once so gladly heard, When wistfully I spoke and mused, 