At the side towards the sunset with the window on the right,
Stood the London-made piano I am dreaming of to-night.[[1]]
Ah me! how I remember the evening when it came,
What a cry of eager voices, what a group of cheeks in flame.
When the wondrous box was opened that had come from over seas,
With its smell of mastic, and its flash of ivory keys.[[2]]
Then the children all grew fretful in the restlessness of joy;
For the boy would push his sister and the sister crowd the boy,[[3]]
Till the father asked for quiet in the grave, paternal way,
But the mother hushed the tumult, with the words, “Now Mary, play!”