To a Pianiste

BY JAMES THOMSON

I SAW thee once, I see thee now;
    Thy pure young face, thy noble mien,
Thy truthful eyes, thy radiant brow;
    All childlike, lovely, and serene;
Rapt in harmonious visions proud,
Scarce conscious of the audient crowd.

I heard thee when the instrument,
    Possessed and quickened by thy soul,
Impassioned and intelligent,
    Responded to thy full control
With all the treasures of its dower,
> Its sweetest and its grandest power.

I saw and heard with such delight
    As rarely charms our lower sphere
Blind Handel would not miss his sight,
    Thy beauty voiced thus in his ear;
Beethoven in that face would see
His glorious unheard harmony.