Waltz With a Silhouette
Nigh was the night, this one of saddest days
When this figure–Sihouette–entwined my way.
The Sky, sanguine, with the Sun’s losing fight
Held a sight of so heavenly delight:
Waltzing atop a forlorn hill alone
A Thumbelina, in her steps, shone;
And in her dance, I found my feet had flown
With hands, hips, bones, a beating heart gone!
This maiden, so delicately divine,
captured, enslaved visions of this mind!
Oh, diamond so polished of God’s make,
How could fate sin such terrible mistake–
When the moon howled mad that darkness was nigh,
That I lost her dance, my saddest of nights.
