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...OUR GOOD PRESIDENT by PHOEBE CARY CHRISTMAS IN INDIA by RUDYARD KIPLING SWITZERLAND AND ITALY by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES TACKING SHIP OFF SHORE by WALTER MITCHELL HOME, SWEET HOME, FR. CLARI, THE MAID OF MILAN by JOHN HOWARD PAYNE IN YOUTH IS PLEASURE by ROBERT WEVER |