Poems (Storrie)/Dorothy Dancing

by Agnes Louisa Storrie

Dorothy Dancing.

As the spirit of sound may dwell in a chord,
And the spirit of thought be embalmed in a word,
And the spirit of colour inhabit a rose,
And the spirit of scent in its heart repose,
So the spirit of motion lurks, graceful and Beet,
In the exquisite moulding of Dorothy's feet.
       Dorothy dancing!
       Oh! think of the glancing
       Of Dorothy's dancing feet.

There are sweet flower-faces, and faces like flowers,
There are laces in billows, and diamonds in showers,
There are flocks of fans waving, like butterflies' wings,
And with dreamy waltz music the pulsing air swings,
The violins sob, and the piccolos sigh,
And the harp chords in thrilling love-measures reply,
       And it's all to greet
       The musical beat
       Of Dorothy's dancing feet.

They rise and fall and they fall and rise,
And weave strange spells in my love-glamoured eyes,
Like blossoms that flutter soft breezes before,
They poise half an inch from the envious floor,
Then the delicate points of her little bronze shoes
Fall, light as the touch of night's moon-silvered dews,
       And the boards repeat
       The rhythmical beat
       Of Dorothy's dancing feet.

And they wind in and out, they flash to and fro,
And tangle my senses wherever they go;
I may lose my eyes, my ears, or my brain,
I may never inhale a rose perfume again,
But as long as my heart can remember to beat,
It will echo the music of Dorothy's feet.
       Dorothy dancing!
       Oh! think of the glancing
       Of Dorothy's dancing feet.