Celia Thaxter

Modjeska

DEFT hands called Chopin’s music from the keys.
    Silent she sat, her slender figure’s poise
Flower-like and fine and full of lofty ease;
    She heard her Poland’s most consummate voice
From power to pathos falter, sink and change;
    The music of her land, the wondrous high,
Utmost expression of its genius strange, —
    Incarnate sadness breathed in melody.
Silent and thrilled she sat, her lovely face
    Flushing and paling like a delicate rose
    Shaken by summer winds from its repose
Softly this way and that with tender grace,
    Now touched by sun, now into shadow turned, —
    While bright with kindred fire her deep eyes burned!
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