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The Lonely Dancer

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THE LONELY DANCER I had no heart to join the dance, I danced it all so long agö Ah! light-winged music out of France, Let other feet glide to and fro, Weaving new patterns of romance For bosoms of new-fallen snow. But leave me thus where I may hear The leafy rustle of the waltz, The shell-like murmur in my ear, The silken whisper fairy-false Of unseen rainbows circling near, And the glad shuddering of the walls. Another dance the dancers spin, A shadow-dance of mystic pain, And other partners enter in And dance within my lonely brain¿ The swaying woodland shod in green, The ghostly dancers of the rain; The lonely dancers of the sea, Foam-footed on the sandy bar, The wizard dance of wind and tree, The eddying dance of stream and star; Yea, all these dancers tread for me A measure mournful and bizarre: An echo-dance where ear is eye, And sound evokes the shapes of things, Where out of silence and a sigh The sad world like a picture springs, As, when some secret bird sweeps by, We see it in the sound of wings.

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  • Sprog:
  • Engelsk
  • ISBN:
  • 9791041987214
  • Indbinding:
  • Paperback
  • Sideantal:
  • 60
  • Udgivet:
  • 28. februar 2024
  • Størrelse:
  • 170x4x220 mm.
  • Vægt:
  • 111 g.
  • 2-3 uger.
  • 7. december 2024
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Beskrivelse af The Lonely Dancer

THE LONELY DANCER
I had no heart to join the dance,
I danced it all so long agö
Ah! light-winged music out of France,
Let other feet glide to and fro,
Weaving new patterns of romance
For bosoms of new-fallen snow.
But leave me thus where I may hear
The leafy rustle of the waltz,
The shell-like murmur in my ear,
The silken whisper fairy-false
Of unseen rainbows circling near,
And the glad shuddering of the walls.
Another dance the dancers spin,
A shadow-dance of mystic pain,
And other partners enter in
And dance within my lonely brain¿
The swaying woodland shod in green,
The ghostly dancers of the rain;
The lonely dancers of the sea,
Foam-footed on the sandy bar,
The wizard dance of wind and tree,
The eddying dance of stream and star;
Yea, all these dancers tread for me
A measure mournful and bizarre:
An echo-dance where ear is eye,
And sound evokes the shapes of things,
Where out of silence and a sigh
The sad world like a picture springs,
As, when some secret bird sweeps by,
We see it in the sound of wings.

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