SILK STOCKINGS
The Prince besought the silkworm on the bough, Where the ripe mulberries dripped honeyed blood,To spin a slender sheath, incurving now And now expanding in more generous mood,To clasp his lady's lovely ankles tightThat they glimmer in the moonless night,When fairies dance about the magic thorn,His fairy's limbs might twinkle like the morn!
And envious fairy gentlemen at Court Filched the floss-threads from thistle-tops, to makeHose for the partners whom their fancy sought, That maids might love them for the stockings' sake!And foot it just as featly in the danceAs proud Titania, whom a happier chanceDonated, for her feet as white as milk;The close caressing of the finer silk!
Let prudes complain and grim economy Wage war on these pure silken hose. We knowSilk stockings have a hint of witchery Suggesting rose-leaf textures hid below,Whispering of Folly in the merry dance,Of eyes demure, and Quaker gowns, and chanceOr sly intent conceding to the flesh,And hiding modest limbs in silken mesh!
