A woman was playing,
A man looking on;
And the mould of her face,
And her neck, and her hair,
Which the rays fell upon
Of the two candles there,
Sent him mentally straying
In some fancy-place
Where pain had no trace.
A cowled Apparition
Came pushing between;
And her notes seemed to sigh,
And the lights to burn pale,
As a spell numbed the scene.
But the maid saw no bale,
And the man no monition;
And Time laughed awry,
And the Phantom hid nigh.
At The Piano
Thomas Hardy
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Poem topics: hair, pain, time, woman, place, face, scene, mentally, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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About At The Piano
At The Piano is a poem by Thomas Hardy. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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