Send this page to someone
Fill in the email address of your friend, and we will send an email that contains a link to this page.
The very attitude of the man, as he stands poising his bow for a moment before he begins to play, his lithe and graceful yet wholly unartificial bow to the audience, his weird and slender figure, with head thrown back, and eyes upturned as if seeking inspiration from some invisible source, or (as some has imagined) listening for an inaudible whisper form his violin, are of themselves a poem adressed to the eye, resembling in effect the wild lyrics of his native North, […]
