letra de aubrey beardsley - the three musicians, the published version - ghizela rowe
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the polish g*nius lags behind
and, with some poppies in his hand
picks out the strings and wood and wind
of an imaginary band
enchanted that for once his men obey his beat and understand
the charming cantatrice reclines
and rests a moment where she sees
her château’s roof that hotly shines
amid the dusky summer trees
and fans herself, half shuts her eyes, and smoothes the frock about her knees
the gracious boy is at her feet
and weighs his courage with his chance;
his fears soon melt in noonday heat
the tourist gives a furious glance
red as his guide-book grows, moves on, and offers up a prayer for france
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