The Widower's Dance


A dance and song, with laugh of startled glee,
The murmurs drifting out from alcoves closed.
Thus, see the spreading mirth from nook, then flee,
And draw the eyes to trance, like rapture dosed.

The pearled necklace bright, a glass of wine,
That clinks and drowns away the whispers soft,
As we, from far yet centred, knot like twine,
And dance ourselves away in sky aloft.

And see your eyes, and know the sun and moon—
For what could blind a man to world around?
And know the belladonna tincture’s swoon:
To death or maddened love, and nothing bound.

At claps, the lovely echo fades at length,
And steals away the final, promised breath.