I SING not of beauties of nature, Of flowers which beautify Some arbored nook in the woodland, Or the tints of the sunset sky. But thoughts of a certain evening To my throbbing brain now throng, And e'en, as they throng, comes their echo, This lightsome ball-room song. Oh, when is a maiden more lovely, Or when doth a subtler grace Steal over her than when attired In snowy-white tulle and lace? When a perfume is wafted toward you As you turn in the mazy dance, -- A perfume intoxicating As the wines of Southern France. Ah, well I remember one evening, Which memory'll ever hold dear, When I listened to music entrancing, And the lights of the chandelier Shed a halo that seemed beatific O'er the maids in the festooned hall, And among them, dark-eyed and flushing, Was Betina, the fairest of all. As I danced with Betina that evening, And drank in the violin's wine, And wished that the dance were forever, Once she lifted her eyes to mine. "A love of a dance," she whispered, With a half-regretful sigh; But, alas! as I felt my heart throbbing, "A dance of love," thought I. W. C. NICHOLS. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LUNCH AT A CLUB by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CAPPER KAPLINSKI AT THE NORTH SIDE CUE CLUB by HAYDEN CARRUTH WOODSMOKE AT 70 by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE SEVEN ARTS by ROBERT FROST GOAL by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PROMISE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE HARD TIMES IN ELFLAND; A STORY OF CHRISTMAS EVE by SIDNEY LANIER |