Places it beside my bed,
And while silently I gaze
Spell-bound by his mystic presence,
Seats himself thereon and plays.

Gracious, stately, grave and tall,
Always dressed from crown to toe
In the quaint elaborate fashion
Of a hundred years ago.

Doublet, small-clothes, silk-clocked hose;
Wears my midnight melodist,
Snowy ruffles in his bosom,
Snowy ruffles at his wrist.

Silver buckle at his knee,
Silver buckle on his shoe;
Powdered hair smoothed back and plaited
In a stiff old-fashioned queue.

If I stir he vanishes;
If I speak he flits away;
If I lie in utter silence,
He will sit for hours and play;

Play old wailing minor airs,
Melancholy, wild and slow,
Such, mayhap, as pleased the maidens
Of a hundred years ago.