On cupids painted on the walls
At play with doves. Precisely set
Awaits the slender legged spinet
Expectant of its happy lot,
The while the player stays to twist
The cobweb ruffle from his wrist.
A pause, and then—(Ah, whisper not)
Monseigneur plays his new gavotte.
Monseigneur plays his new gavotte—
Hark, 'tis the faintest dawn of Spring,