While Hearing a Little Song
Reading edition
(Solveigs Lied)
Maxwell Bodenheim
A song flew lazily Over my upturned head. It dropped and I could see The ivoried limbs, the spread Of swaying, dream-colored wings, And barely sense the drift Of slender, cloud-voiced rings Of notes which seemed to lift The oval of my soul Up to their lingering death ... A purplish pallor stole Down to my leaden breath,— It was my melted soul And the soft death of the throng Of notes from the slim song.