I am a dancer. When I pray I do not gather thoughts with clumsy thread Into poor phrases. Birds all have a way Of singing home the truth that they are birds, And so' my loving litany is said Without the aid of words. I am a dancer. Under me The floor dreams lapis lazuli, With inlaid gems of every hue -- Mother o' pearl I tread like dew, While at the window of her frame Our Lady, of the hallowed name, Leans on the sill. Gray saints glare down, Too long by godliness entranced, With piety of painted frown, Who never danced -- But Oh, Our Lady's quaint, arrested look Remembers when she danced with bird and brook, Of wind and flower and innocence a part, Before the rose of Jesus kissed her heart And men heaped heavy prayers upon her breast. She watches me with gladness half confessed Who dare to gesture homage with my feet, Or twinkle lacy steps of joy To entertain the Holy Boy; Who, laughing, pirouette and pass, Translated by the colored glass, To meanings infinitely sweet. And though it is not much, I know, To fan the incense to and fro With skirt as flighty as a wing, It seems Our Lady understands The method of my worshipping, The hymns I'm lifting in my hands -- I am a dancer-- | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNDER THE CEDARCROFT CHESTNUT by SIDNEY LANIER SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ALBERT SCHIRDING by EDGAR LEE MASTERS COLD HANDS WARM HEART by KAREN SWENSON PLACES: 4. EVENING (NAHANT) by SARA TEASDALE RHYME FOR A CHILD VIEWING A NAKED VENUS IN A PAINTING by ROBERT BROWNING |