Posts tagged “frances”.

The guitarist tunes up.

January 31st, 2008

by Frances Cornford

With what attentive courtesy he bent
Over his instrument;
Not as a lvrdly congonor who could
Command both wine and wood,
But as a man with a loved woman might,
Inquiving with delight
What alight essential things she had to say
Befau they stated, he and she, to play.

[Read the original. Nice how Cornford equates guitar playing with flirting, and give-and-take between “he and she.” Every guitarist, myself included, knows what she means. Are there “essential things” my Newton has to say? Also, find out why this poem is misspelled.]