There is not lurking in it some demon still,
Its tones and notes sound so awfully shrill.
I would not for a single moment profane
The memory of my dear aunt I still retain,
Nor at her sincere beliefs cast one single slur.
I write here what did actually occur.
A coolness between me and the fiddle I love
Sprang up from the incident related above,
That lasted all the days of my youth
When I might have learned the violin in truth;