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Amy Levy - The Piano-Organ
Work rating: Low

My student-lamp is lighted,
    The books and papers are spread;
A sound comes floating upwards,
    Chasing the thoughts from my head.

I open the garret window,
    Let the music in and the moon;
See the woman grin for coppers,
    While the man grinds out the tune.

Grind me a dirge or a requiem,
    Or a funeral-march sad and slow,
But not, O not, that waltz tune
    I heard so long ago.

I stand upright by the window,
    The moonlight streams in wan:—
O God! with its changeless rise and fall
    The tune twirls on and on.
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