Synopsis

How still and dusky is the long closed room! What lingering shadows and what sweet perfume Of Eastern treasures; sandalwood and scent, With nard and cassia, and with roses blent: Let in the sunshine. Quaint cabinets are here, boxes and fans, And hoarded letters full of hopes and plans: I them byI come once more to see The old piano, dear to memory; In past days mine. Of all sad voices from forgotten years, It is the saddest. See what tender tears Drop on the yellow keys! as soft and slow I play some melody of long ago. How strange it seems! The thin, weak notes that once were rich and strong Give only now, the shadow of a song; The dying echo of the fuller strain, That I shall never, never hear again: Unless in dreams. What hands have touched it! fingers small and white,