Handel's Andante

Reverence, awe. Very profound. Is it the lost dance or the lost family? Either way, it is powerful.

Handel’s Andante

An old harpsichord hums

A forgotten song in a darkened room.

The white carnation rustles

In a vase of someone’s tears.

And I half hear, half dream

Of satin slippers pressing down the pile

Of rugs born of an old century’s loom.

There is a whispering, too,

Of faded silk and bleached brocade

That recover a moment their old-time tints

While strange fingers wander

Over the quiet yellow keys.

A bosom trembles with an unheard sob,

Out in the garden white roses pray

To the listening moon, shake petals

Crisp and white, and wait.

In a distant hall the dance still beats,

But the afternoon has slipped off

Quietly to look at the moon.

Do not feel uneasy, Dear!

This strong pain of loneliness

Shall rise in your throat often

When beauty has been and . . . . gone!

Evelyn Coffey