THE feet have left the wormholed flooring, That danced to the ancient air, The fiddler, all-ignoring, Sleeps by the gray-grassed 'cello player: Shall I then foot around around around, As once I footed there! The voice is heard in the room no longer That trilled, none sweetlier, To gentle stops or stronger, Where now the dust-draped cobwebs stir: Shall I then sing again again again, As once I sang with her! The eyes that beamed out rapid brightness Have longtime found their close, The cheeks have wanned to whiteness That used to sort with summer rose: Shall I then joy anew anew anew, As once I joyed in those! O what's to me this tedious Maying, What's to me this June? O why should viols be playing To catch and reel and rigadoon? Shall I sing, dance around around around, When phantoms call the tune! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POST MORTEM by GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER A POEM, DEDICATED TO WILLIAM LAW, PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY by ROBERT BLAIR ON JOHN DOVE [JOHNNY DOW], INNKEEPER OF MAUCHLINE by ROBERT BURNS AS SEEN FROM MY WINDOWS by ELLIE WILCOX BURT A DIALOGUE ON NATUREM POWER AND USE OF HUMAN LEARNING, IN RELIGION by JOHN BYROM |