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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
CUPID'S ALLEY; A MORALITY, by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: It runs (so saith my chronicler) Last Line: Must last -- in 'cupid's alley.' Alternate Author Name(s): Dobson, Austin | |||
O, Love's but a dance, Where Time plays the fiddle! See the couples advance, -- O, Love's but a dance! A whisper, a glance, -- 'Shall we twirl down the middle?' O, Love's but a dance, Where Time plays the fiddle! IT runs (so saith my Chronicler) Across a smoky City; -- A Babel filed with buzz and whirr, Huge, gloomy, black and gritty; Dark-louring looks the hill-side near, Dark-yawning looks the valley, -- But here 'tis always fresh and clear, For here -- is 'Cupid's Alley.' And, from an Arbour cool and green With aspect down the middle, An ancient Fiddler, gray and lean, Scrapes on an ancient fiddle; Alert he seems, but aged enow To punt the Stygian galley; -- With wisp of forelock on his brow, He plays -- in 'Cupid's Alley.' All day he plays, -- a single tune! -- But, by the oddest chances, Gavotte, or Brawl, or Rigadoon, It suits all kinds of dances; My Lord may walk a pas de Cour To Jenny's pas de Chalet; -- The folks who ne'er have danced before Can dance -- in 'Cupid's Alley.' And here, for ages yet untold, Long, long before my ditty, Came high and low, and young and old, From out the crowded City; And still to-day they come, they go, And just as fancies tally, They foot it quick, they foot it slow, All day -- in 'Cupid's Alley.' Strange Dance! 'Tis free to Rank and Rags; Here no distinction flatters, Here Riches shakes its money-bags, And Poverty its tatters; Church, Army, Navy, Physic, Law; -- Maid, Mistress, Master, Valet; Long locks, gray hairs, bald heads, and a', -- They bob -- in 'Cupid's Alley.' Strange pairs! To laughing, light Fifteen Here capers Prudence thrifty; Here Prodigal leads down the green A blushing Maid of fifty; Some treat it as a serious thing, And some but shilly-shally; And some have danced without the ring (Ah me!) -- in 'Cupid's Alley.' And sometimes one to one will dance, And think of one behind her; And one by one will stand, perchance, Yet look all ways to find her; Some seek a partner with a sigh, Some win him with a sally; And some, they know not how nor why, Strange fate! -- of 'Cupid's Alley.' And some will dance an age or so Who came for half a minute; And some, who like the game, will go Before they well begin it; And some will vow they're 'danced to death,' Who (somehow) always rally; Strange cures are wrought (mine Author saith), Strange cures! -- in 'Cupid's Alley.' It may be one will dance to-day, And dance no more to-morrow; It may be one will steal away And nurse a life-long sorrow; What then? The rest advance, evade, Unite, dispart, and dally, Re-set, coquet, and gallopade, Not less -- in 'Cupid's Alley.' For till that City's wheel-work vast And shuddering beams shall crumble; -- And till that Fiddler lean at last From off his seat shall tumble; -- Till then (the Civic records say), This quaint, fantastic ballet Of Go and Stay, of Yea and Nay, Must last -- in 'Cupid's Alley.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A GAGE D'AMOUR by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON A GARDEN SONG by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON ARS VICTRIX (IMITATED FROM THEOPHILE GAUTIER) by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON BEFORE SEDAN by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON DORA VERSUS ROSE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON GROWING GRAY by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW; IN MEMORIAM by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON IN AFTER DAYS; RONDEAU by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON THE BALLAD OF PROSE AND RHYME by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON WHEN THERE IS PEACE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON |
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