I curtseyed to the dovecote. I curtseyed to the well. I twirled me round and round about, The morning scents to smell. When out I came from spinning so, Lo, betwixt green and blue Was the ghost of me -- a fairy child -- A-dancing -- dancing, too. Nought was of her wearing That is the earth's array. Her thistledown feet beat airy fleet, Yet set no blade astray. The gossamer shining dews of June Showed grey against the green; Yet never so much as a bird-claw print Of footfall to be seen. Fading in the mounting sun, That image soon did pine. Fainter than moonlight thinned the locks That shone as clear as mine. Vanished! Vanished! O, sad it is To spin and spin -- in vain; And never to see the ghost of me A-dancing there again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOSSAMER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON YOUTH'S PROGENY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON RECESSIONAL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE BABY-HOUSE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD AN EVENING PRAYER by C. MAUDE BATTERSBY THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |