General William Booth enters into Heaven, and other poems/How a little girl sang

by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay

HOW A LITTLE GIRL SANG

AH, she was music in herself,
 A symphony of joyousness.
She sang, she sang from finger tips,
From every tremble of her dress.
I saw sweet haunting harmony,
An ecstasy, an ecstasy,
In that strange curling of her lips,
That happy curling of her lips.
And quivering with melody
Those eyes I saw, that tossing head.

And so I saw what music was,
Tho' still accursed with ears of lead.