IN gold and grey, with fleering looks of sin, I watch them come; by two, by three, by four, Advancing slow, with loutings they begin Their woven measure, widening from the door; While music-men behind are straddling in With flutes to brisk their feet across the floor, -- And jangled dulcimers, and fiddles thin That taunt the twirling antic through once more. They pause, and hushed to whispers, steal away. With cunning glances; silent go their shoon On creakless stairs; but far away the dogs Bark at some lonely farm: and haply they Have clambered back into the dusky moon That sinks beyond the marshes loud with frogs. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 12. A RENUNCIATION by THOMAS CAMPION FIRELIGHT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE BIRD WITH THE COPPERY, KEEN CLAWS by WALLACE STEVENS THE LAME SHEPHERD by KATHARINE LEE BATES SCAMPS OF ROMANCE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE AUTHOR OF 'THE GREAT ILLUSION' by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |