Kathleen+Tankersley+Young

=Kathleen Tankersley Young=

Kathleen Tankersley Young
She now retraces her steps once more Over the length of the room to the dark window. She stoops to the ancient piano And fingers the white keys that pour Strange music of the remembered spring thunder That she once heard in a youth long dead. She has not forgotten; she turn her head To stare into the dark, and hears the winds stir A new sound: although now vaguely familiar And yet altogether strange, the chords grow Crazily wild, and the black window Rattles, and music continues thunder. Some way of sound her dreams may transcend These stairways of snow, and snow, and wind.

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