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!
