Her Violin

When Vera plays her violin

     The universe stands still;

It seems to me that earth and sky

     Awake to do her will.

The “music of the spheres” lets loose

     To show the joy within;

My soul responds whene’er she plays

     Her violin.

The movement of her slender arm

     Displays a thing of grace;

A glow of rapture, half divine,

     Lights up her girlish face.

And thus it seems this good, old world

     Were free from care or sin,

When Vera draws her bow across

     Her violin.

Her dimpled chin rests lovingly

     Upon its polished wood;

Her will commands the ready strings

     To suit her changing mood.

I cannot hope to be her lord,

     Not yet a smile to win;

But O, what joy were mine to be

     Her violin!

Nov. 6, 1904