In Cornwall and Across the Sea With Poems Written in Devonshire. By Douglas B. W. Sladen |
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THE VALSE. |
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 | In Cornwall and Across the Sea |  |
149
THE VALSE.
He asks her a question; she answers yes,
With every grace in her graciousness,
And rises to yield him her slender form
Sweetly submissive and chastely warm,
Smiles as she rises and lifts soft eyes,
Gladdening when he would have her to rise,
Takes his hand firmly and leans on him,
Letting the rest of the room grow dim.
With every grace in her graciousness,
And rises to yield him her slender form
Sweetly submissive and chastely warm,
Smiles as she rises and lifts soft eyes,
Gladdening when he would have her to rise,
Takes his hand firmly and leans on him,
Letting the rest of the room grow dim.
150
He only has asked for her hand to valse;
Her seeming submission and warmth is false;
Once after a valse, as she sat and fanned
The flush from her fairness, he asked her hand;
She rose with a motion of tender grace,
Yet did she not look him as now in the face,
But, drooping her lashes, besought him to go
Graciously—gracious even in no.
Her seeming submission and warmth is false;
Once after a valse, as she sat and fanned
The flush from her fairness, he asked her hand;
She rose with a motion of tender grace,
Yet did she not look him as now in the face,
But, drooping her lashes, besought him to go
Graciously—gracious even in no.
Her fingers in his have a touch of fire
To kindle the glow of the old desire;
The waist in his arm so submissive and slim
Awakes an electrical thrill in him;
He cannot encounter the tender eyes
Without piecing the broken reveries,
Or list to her voice in an undertone
Without dreaming of her as his yielded own
To kindle the glow of the old desire;
The waist in his arm so submissive and slim
Awakes an electrical thrill in him;
He cannot encounter the tender eyes
Without piecing the broken reveries,
Or list to her voice in an undertone
Without dreaming of her as his yielded own
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Remembers she yet, when she yields to him,
So trustfully, fingers and body slim?
And does she remember, when, free from all wiles,
She offers him one of her own frank smiles?
Or feel, when she ushers her kind replies
With a pleading glance from her soft dark eyes,
How she kindles the flame of the sacrifice
Which is laid on her altar at such a price?
So trustfully, fingers and body slim?
And does she remember, when, free from all wiles,
She offers him one of her own frank smiles?
Or feel, when she ushers her kind replies
With a pleading glance from her soft dark eyes,
How she kindles the flame of the sacrifice
Which is laid on her altar at such a price?
Fair maid, he would dance his whole life through,
Had he such a partner for life as you!
Fond man, she would dance not with you again,
Did she know that it brought back the old sweet pain.
Yet cherish your secret and you may hold
Her waist in your arm, as you held it of old,
Press her hand, whisper—the vision is false,
It is not your love she accepts, but the valse.
Had he such a partner for life as you!
Fond man, she would dance not with you again,
Did she know that it brought back the old sweet pain.
Yet cherish your secret and you may hold
Her waist in your arm, as you held it of old,
Press her hand, whisper—the vision is false,
It is not your love she accepts, but the valse.
| In Cornwall and Across the Sea | |