This is the dust of a dancer; Now, if a flute should call, Do you think she would answer, Or stir at all? Little brown hands went swinging The time of the dance to mark, Maybe the girl went singing Into the dark. Maybe the girl was willing, Tired of music and men, To go from the flute's proud shrilling And not dance again. It may be that now she is rested -- If we could call her back, Slim-throated and full-breasted, Down the dark track! The years have made her no older, Youth wins this from death -- The centuries enfold her Like God's breath. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MORAL ESSAYS: EPISTLE 2. TO A LADY: OF THE CHARACTERS OF WOMEN by ALEXANDER POPE TWILIGHT SYMPHONY by LESLIE ANDERSON TO A FRIEND by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD POLYHYMNIA: VERSES TO LORD NORREYS, SELECTION by WILLIAM BASSE SPLENDID ISOLATION; A MORAL FROM LEXINTON, 1775 by KATHARINE LEE BATES QUATORZAINS: 3. RIVULETS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |