You say the gods and muses all
From earth now banished be?
Will you believe that yester-eve
I saw Terpsichore?
Her robe of snow and gossamer
Enclad a form most neat;
Such sandals green were never seen
As shod her twinkling feet.
Her every step was melody,
Her every motion grace,
That one might prize a thousand eyes
To note both form and face.
The motes that dance in sunny beams
Tripped never in such wise;
This lovely sprite danced in the light
That beamed from her own eyes.
A man's head once was danced away—
You know how it befell?
My dainty fay danced yesterday
Men's hearts away as well.
What 's that? 'Twas but a graceful girl
That took the hearts for pelf?
Nay, I was there, and 't was, I swear,
Terpsichore herself.