 | My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays |  |
LINES TO A LADY, DANCING.
Ethereal Beauty! fairy! say,
Who taught thy tiny feet to play?
Was it, mid moonlight's cheerly glance,
That Oberon, mingling in the dance,
Gave thee his art, and bade thee go,
And charm the gazing world below?
Like his thine elfin footsteps shine,
And all his buoyant grace is thine:
Like his thy strains of music flow,
When falls the cadence warbled low.
Who taught thy tiny feet to play?
Was it, mid moonlight's cheerly glance,
That Oberon, mingling in the dance,
Gave thee his art, and bade thee go,
And charm the gazing world below?
Like his thine elfin footsteps shine,
And all his buoyant grace is thine:
Like his thy strains of music flow,
When falls the cadence warbled low.
No—not the monarch chanced to see,
Nor gave his carols sweet to thee.
But favouring nature did her part,
And graceful made thee as thou art.
Nor gave his carols sweet to thee.
But favouring nature did her part,
And graceful made thee as thou art.
| My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays | |