YOU trip, O Youth incarnate, down the stairs, Dear Miss Nineteen, whose dance-fresh grace defies Blossom of orchards, April's very skies; So might a nymph have slid to shepherd airs In groves of cypress where the ringdove pairs, Lightfoot, elusive, panting, woodland-wise, With just a half-shy challenge in the eyes, To fan pursuit or wake the love that dares. Still I, your mid-aged friend, do most acclaim Not the curved lip, the sun-steeped eyes of you, Nor two slim feet, the bard-sung "little mice," But that dear gift, the clean, untarnished flame That sends you, 'twixt the midnight chimes and two, With cheery gusto into supper thrice! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RUBAIYAT, 1889 EDITION: 19 by OMAR KHAYYAM CUSTER'S LAST CHARGE [JUNE 25, 1876] by FREDERICK WHITTAKER THE MISTRESS; A SONG by JOHN WILMOT THE MEDITATION OF THE OLD FISHERMAN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE KINGS OF THE EAST by KATHARINE LEE BATES |