The little painted angels flit, See, down the narrow staircase, where The pink legs flicker over it! Blonde, and bewigged, and winged with gold, The shining creatures of the air Troop sadly, shivering with cold. The gusty gaslight shoots a thin Sharp finger over cheeks and nose Rouged to the colour of the rose. All wigs and paint, they hurry in: Then, let their radiant moment be The footlights' immortality! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: HENRY MURRAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOUGLAS, DOUGLAS, TENDER AND TRUE by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK HAIL COLUMBIA by JOSEPH HOPKINSON TO HELEN (1) by EDGAR ALLAN POE LET US HAVE PEACE by NANCY BYRD TURNER THE COTTAGER TO HER INFANT by DOROTHY WORDSWORTH |