HER LIGHT GUITAR

She twankled a tune on her light guitar —

A low, sweet jangle of tangled sounds,

As blurred as the voices of the fairies are,

Dancing in moondawn dales and downs;

And the tinkling drip of the strange refrain

Ran over the rim of my soul like rain.

The great blond moon in the midnight skies

Paused and poised o'er the trellis eaves,

And the stars, in the light of her upturned eyes,

Sifted their love through the rifted leaves,

Glittered and splintered in crystal mist

Down the glittering strings that her fingers kissed.

O the melody mad! O the tinkle and thrill

Of the ecstasy of the exquisite thing!

The red rose dropped from the window-sill

And lay in a long swoon quivering;

While the dying notes of the strain divine

Rippled in glee up my spellbound spine.