Across the dimly lighted room
The violin drew wefts of sound,
Airily they wove and wound
And glimmered gold against the gloom.
I watched the music turn to light,
But at the pausing of the bow,
The web was broken and the glow
Was drowned within the wave of night.
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the verb processed the poem
:A Minuet of Mozart's" re-categorizes joy.
Lines 1., 2., 3., & 4. mark the timber of the walls and mountainous time with the timber! of the woodsy violin breaking the forestry with a basket or plucked cotton thread, harvesting out a blockahe.
4. especially showed perks of not getting depressingly linked with one of our five senses.
5. - 7. had shown how the mind's eye was drawn along, but it couldn't pretend brightness at a lapse if the suggestions of a gay time as with an unzippered wardrobe of day and there was a relapse.
8. showed if it's not kept up, it disintegrates in the navy ocean tide of evening that warps against any craft's thin power.
sarah teasdale saw similar to reading a tribune with no tribute by which you perceive a chasing, a darkness pumping that doesn't though have such an easy switch of lights as sighing the by-line to ribbon back the dungeon drape of words. It's a reminder to think of virtues more than by essays etcetera.
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Glimmered gold then drowned in a wave of night...tragically beautiful. Like life.
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