{"id":3564,"date":"2013-12-14T09:50:01","date_gmt":"2013-12-14T07:50:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/?p=3564"},"modified":"2013-12-14T09:50:01","modified_gmt":"2013-12-14T07:50:01","slug":"piano","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/?p=3564","title":{"rendered":"Piano"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a title=\"stock-footage-young-adult-woman-opens-piano-lid-and-plays-it-with-red-heart-as-staff-back-side-low-angle-view\" href=\"http:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/12\/stock-footage-young-adult-woman-opens-piano-lid-and-plays-it-with-red-heart-as-staff-back-side-low-angle-view.jpg\" rel=\"prettyPhoto-img\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-3565 alignleft\" alt=\"stock-footage-young-adult-woman-opens-piano-lid-and-plays-it-with-red-heart-as-staff-back-side-low-angle-view\" src=\"http:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/12\/stock-footage-young-adult-woman-opens-piano-lid-and-plays-it-with-red-heart-as-staff-back-side-low-angle-view.jpg\" width=\"400\" height=\"226\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong><blockquote class=\"sc-blockquote\">Piano<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me; <br \/> Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see <br \/> A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings <br \/> And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.<\/p>\n<p>In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song <br \/> Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong <br \/> To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside <br \/> And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.<\/p>\n<p>So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour <br \/> With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour <br \/> Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast <br \/> Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right;\"><em>D.H.Lawrence<\/blockquote><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3564","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-classic-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3564","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3564"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3564\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3567,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3564\/revisions\/3567"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3564"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3564"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3564"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}