The Dancing Girl
John Barlas [1860 -- 1914]
Gaudy painted hangings, fringed by many a tatter,
Daubed with bird or beast! Pipe, whistle and scream,
Flute and clarion, trump and drum, and clatter
Of the doll-musicians, blown by steam!
There before the screen a damsel tinkling
With a timbrel, timed by bell and gong,
Sashed with scarlet, blue, and tinsel twinkling,
Danced and leapt along.
|Moorish Dancers (1849), Théodore Chassériau|
With her shadow on the painted canvas dancing
Fitful cast by the jet's flickering glare,
Sinuous limbs, arms waving, quick feet glancing,
True to cymbal's clash and clarion's blare!
How the pure grace of her girlish motion
Made the vulgar show seem half divine,
Steeped my breast as with an opiate potion
Of enchanted wine!
But the shadow on the waving back-ground thrilled me,
For it seemed a skeleton on springs,
And its jerky leaps and gestures filled me
With a dream of hollow eyeless rings,
Bony shanks, and blackened teeth a-grinning,
Lurid damp-fires of sepulchral dew,--
Till my dizzy brain, betwixt them, spinning,
Wondered which was true.