And they advance with flutter, with grace, To the dance Moving on with a dainty pace, As blossoms mince it on river swells.
Over their heads their cymbals shine, Round each ankle gleams a twine Of twinkling bells -Tune twirled golden from their cells.
Every step was a tinkling sound, As they glanced in their dancing-ground, Clouds in cluster with such a sailing Float o'er the light of the wasting moon, As the cloud of their gliding veiling Swung in the sway of the dancing-tune.
There was the clash of their cymbals clanging, Ringing of swinging bells clinging their feet;And the clang on wing it seemed a-hanging, Hovering round their dancing so fleet.-I stirred, I rustled more than meet;
Whereat they broke to the left and right, With eddying robes like aconite Blue of helm;And I beheld to the foot o' the elm.
They have not tripped those dances, betrayed to my gaze, To glad the heart of Sylvia, beholding of their maze;Through barky walls have slid away, And tricked them in their holiday, For other than for Sylvia;While all the birds on branches lave their mouths with May, And bear with me this burthen, For singing to Sylvia.
6.
Where its umbrage was enrooted, Sat white-suited, Sat green-amiced, and bare-footed, Spring amid her minstrelsy;There she sat amid her ladies, Where the shade is Sheen as Enna mead ere Hades'
Gloom fell thwart Persephone.
Dewy buds were interstrown Through her tresses hanging down, And her feet Were most sweet, Tinged like sea-stars, rosied brown.
A throng of children like to flowers were sown About the grass beside, or clomb her knee:
I looked who were that favoured company.
And one there stood Against the beamy flood Of sinking day, which, pouring its abundance, Sublimed the illuminous and volute redundance Of locks that, half dissolving, floated round her face;As see I might Far off a lily-cluster poised in sun Dispread its gracile curls of light I knew what chosen child was there in place!
I knew there might no brows be, save of one, With such Hesperian fulgence compassed, Which in her moving seemed to wheel about her head.
O Spring's little children, more loud your lauds upraise, For this is even Sylvia, with her sweet, feat ways!
Your lovesome labours lay away, And prank you out in holiday, For syllabling to Sylvia;And all you birds on branches, lave your mouths with May, To bear with me this burthen For singing to Sylvia!
7.
Spring, goddess, is it thou, desired long?
And art thou girded round with this young train? -If ever I did do thee ease in song, Now of thy grace let me one meed obtain, And list thou to one plain.
Oh, keep still in thy train After the years when others therefrom fade, This tiny, well-beloved maid!
To whom the gate of my heart's fortalice, With all which in it is, And the shy self who doth therein immew him 'Gainst what loud leagurers battailously woo him, I, bribed traitor to him, Set open for one kiss.
Then suffer, Spring, thy children, that lauds they should upraise To Sylvia, this Sylvia, her sweet, feat ways;Their lovely labours lay away, And trick them out in holiday, For syllabling to Sylvia;And that all birds on branches lave their mouths with May, To bear with me this burthen, For singing to Sylvia.
8.
A kiss? for a child's kiss?
Aye, goddess, even for this.
