THE VIOLIN - John Henry Gray Poems


Poems » john henry gray » the violin


The Violin, all good musicians say,
    While yet in babyhood you must begin;
    And so, beneath my little rounded chin,
’Twas promptly tucked, and I began to play
                      The Violin.

No ear had I, or skill; but Discipline
    Recked not of that; and so I sawed away,
And rent the air with Purgatorial din;
    Pondering the while, profoundly, day by day,
Of dark recesses, secret nooks, wherein
    I might (with Providential aid) mislay
                      The Violin.