28 Chopin’s Funeral March
The keyboard black and white;
Shadow-Light the Evening’s scale;
Half silent the voice of thy singing.
Quiver the notes in pain;
Exquisite, sad, the melody at thy touch;
Like the silver arrow of Desire
Piercing the Soul’s golden heart.
The room is lost in dark.
The ivory keys, white fringe
Of a music long since mute;
Yet, in the black night
Tremble and toss notes
Unheard, undreamt,—like sleep
Sleepless, and waking full of smart.