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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Ellwood Colahan

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Hand on a Harp

Ellwood Colahan

LIKE the rose-breasted swallows at sunset

That glide and skim in the twilight

Above the pale gold of the river,

Touching the surface so lightly

That the smooth glints of the little ringlets

Might elude me—

Except that I love them …

Ay, even as the swallows,

Her hands,

All shadow and rose in the flickering light of the fire,

Flit dream-like over the golden strings,

Dipping with exquisite faintness

Till the circles of sound

Would filter away to the heavy darkness—

Except that I love them.