Piano - D.H. Lawrence

Piano

By D.H. Lawrence (1885 - 1930)

Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me; 
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see 
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings 
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.

In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.

So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.

1918

I really enjoyed this poem this week because it has so many elements that speak to me.  When first reading it, I love the smooth and comforting tone that this poem brings.  Smooth and comforting are my favorite adjectives to use when actually listening to and/or playing the piano.  Combining the tone with the rhyme scheme and different line lengths, the effect kind of makes me feel like I am literally listening to the piano or my mom singing along with a piano.

The diction of the poem is like a grand piano in that is flows very smoothly with the ambiance and elegance of a grand piano.  The rhyming of the poem is very suiting to the poem because it is rhythmical like playing a song on the piano.  And ther are many hard sounds like "appasionato" or "black" or "tinkling" that remind me of staccato type notes.  Staccato means light separation between notes.  And the words such as "clamour" or  "glamour" or "rememberance" remind me of more legato type notes (longer held notes).

This poem makes me want to go back to the piano.  I used to love playing it until my mother made me practice so much that I eventually lost interest in the songs that I was playing.  I was eventually playing for others and not for myself and that's where I didn't want to be.  It's those moments that on a quiet afternoon, I make something beautiful out of nothing that made days brighter.  And I think this poem captures that brightness.