I curtseyed to the dovecote. I curtseyed to the well. I twirled me round and round about, The morning scents to smell. When out I came from spinning so, Lo, betwixt green and blue Was the ghost of me -- a fairy child -- A-dancing -- dancing, too. Nought was of her wearing That is the earth's array. Her thistledown feet beat airy fleet, Yet set no blade astray. The gossamer shining dews of June Showed grey against the green; Yet never so much as a bird-claw print Of footfall to be seen. Fading in the mounting sun, That image soon did pine. Fainter than moonlight thinned the locks That shone as clear as mine. Vanished! Vanished! O, sad it is To spin and spin -- in vain; And never to see the ghost of me A-dancing there again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FUN HOUSE FABLE by KAREN SWENSON HOMAGE TO THE BRITISH MUSEUM by WILLIAM EMPSON THE CARELESS GALLANT by THOMAS JORDAN A DESCRIPTION OF SUCH A ONE AS HE WOULD LOVE by THOMAS WYATT THE WILD SWANS AT COOLE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS INVITATION TO A PAINTER: 1 by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM PASSED BY by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |