On with the dance. My Lady swings Her graceful form to rhythmic time, Nor heeds the passing hour; Her arm, undraped, she outward flings In wondrous, joyful pantomime, Oh, witching, witching power: Amazed, I watch her as she glides, Her gyral motion casts a spell And holds me fast and still, As light as fairy queen she rides, No woodland nymph could e'er excel My dancing Lady's skill. On with the dance. My Lady leads My heart a merry, merry chase, And I, proud-willed, declare I'll follow her o'er grassy meads, O'er mounts, snow-capped, where brooklets race And catch her in Love's snare; No more shall doubts my heart beset, No more shall fears of loss be rife, Nor dizzy race be run; But she and I shall pirouette Along the rose-strewn paths of life, No longer twain, but one. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE TRENCHES by RICHARD ALDINGTON PRIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: HILDRUP TUBBS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A GIRL'S THOUGHTS by ISAAC ROSENBERG GOLDWING MOTH by CARL SANDBURG THE COAT OF FIRE by EDITH SITWELL GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: ST. CLOUD, MINNESOTA by KAREN SWENSON |