Here where the swaying dancers float,
The heady perfume swimming round
Your slender arms and virginal throat
Thrills me though riper loves abound.
The passionate eyes and lids of her
Whose face gleams white in many a fold
Of coiling wondrous sombre hair,
The blue eyes in the wreath of gold,
These turn to me in vain, who prize
You more than all the loves and lyres,
For from your unfilled corsage rise
The perfumes that my soul desires.
Ah might I dance for ever, bent
Toward your bosom's clouded gleam,
And let the lilies' acrid scent
Withhold me in the world of dream!
A poem by Theodore William (1871-1933)
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