Portrait of a Barmaid

#listen-container { display: inline-block; padding: 9px 15px; background: #10578E; cursor: pointer; transition: all 0.3s ease; border: 1px solid #1791ef; border-bottom: 1px solid #156caf; -webkit-box-shadow: 0 1px 0 #156caf; -moz-box-shadow: 0 1px 0 #156caf; box-shadow: 0 1px 0 #156caf; } #listen-container:hover { background: #2f9cf1; } #listen-container a { color: #fff; } .listen-container-svg { fill: #fff; height: 20px; width: 22px; margin-right: 5px; } #text-player { margin-right: 0; display: inline-block; font-size: 16px; top: -3px; position: relative; float: none; font-family: "Roboto","sans-serif"; font-size: 12px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 0.1em; } Listen to this Poem Your browser does not support the audio element. Metallic waves of people jar Through crackling green toward the bar Where on the tables chattering-white The sharp drinks quarrel with the light. Those coloured muslin blinds the smiles, Shroud wooden faces in their wiles — Sometimes they splash like water (you Yourself reflected in their hue). The conversation loud and bright Seems spinal bars of shunting light In firework-spurting greenery. O complicate machinery For building Babel, iron crane Beneath your hair, that blue-ribbed mane In noise and murder like the sea Without its mutability! Outside the bar where jangling heat Seems out of tune and off the beat — A concertina's glycerine Exudes, and mirrors in the green Your soul: pure glucose edged with hints Of tentative and half-soiled tints.