This is the dust of a dancer; Now, if a flute should call, Do you think she would answer, Or stir at all? Little brown hands went swinging The time of the dance to mark, Maybe the girl went singing Into the dark. Maybe the girl was willing, Tired of music and men, To go from the flute's proud shrilling And not dance again. It may be that now she is rested -- If we could call her back, Slim-throated and full-breasted, Down the dark track! The years have made her no older, Youth wins this from death -- The centuries enfold her Like God's breath. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE GREAT DEATH by HAYDEN CARRUTH CYNTHIADES: TO CYNTHIA ON CONCEALMENT OF HER BEAUTY by FRANCIS KYNASTON THE SETTLER: AMERICA IN THE MAKING by ALFRED BILLINGS STREET PSALM 18. DILIGAM TE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |