LYRICS OF LOVE AND LAUGHTER

TWO LITTLE BOOTS

  Two little boots all rough an' wo',

      Two little boots!

  Law, I 's kissed 'em times befo',

      Dese little boots!

  Seems de toes a-peepin' thoo

  Dis hyeah hole an' sayin' "Boo!"

  Evah time dey looks at you--

      Dese little boots.

  Membah de time he put 'em on,

      Dese little boots;

  Riz an' called fu' 'em by dawn,

      Dese little boots;

  Den he tromped de livelong day,

  Laffin' in his happy way,

  Evaht'ing he had to say,

      "My little boots!"

  Kickin' de san' de whole day long,

      Dem little boots;

  Good de cobblah made 'em strong,

     Dem little boots!

  Rocks was fu' dat baby's use,

  I'on had to stan' abuse

  W'en you tu'ned dese champeens loose,

      Dese little boots!

  Ust to make de ol' cat cry,

      Dese little boots;

  Den you walked it mighty high,

      Proud little boots!

  Ahms akimbo, stan'in' wide,

  Eyes a-sayin' "Dis is pride!"

  Den de manny-baby stride!

      You little boots.

  Somehow, you don' seem so gay,

      Po' little boots,

  Sence yo' ownah went erway,

      Po' little boots!

  Yo' bright tops don' look so red,

  Dese brass tips is dull an' dead;

  "Goo'-by," whut de baby said;

      Deah little boots!

  Ain't you kin' o' sad yo'se'f,

      You little boots?

  Dis is all his mammy 's lef',

      Two little boots.

  Sence huh baby gone an' died.

  Heav'n itse'f hit seem to hide

  Des a little bit inside

      Two little boots.

TO THE ROAD

  Cool is the wind, for the summer is waning,

      Who 's for the road?

  Sun-flecked and soft, where the dead leaves are raining,

      Who 's for the road?

  Knapsack and alpenstock press hand and shoulder,

  Prick of the brier and roll of the boulder;

  This be your lot till the season grow older;

      Who 's for the road?

  Up and away in the hush of the morning,

      Who 's for the road?

  Vagabond he, all conventions a-scorning,

      Who 's for the road?

  Music of warblers so merrily singing,

  Draughts from the rill from the roadside up-springing,

  Nectar of grapes from the vines lowly swinging,

      These on the road.

  Now every house is a hut or a hovel,

      Come to the road:

  Mankind and moles in the dark love to grovel,

      But to the road.

  Throw off the loads that are bending you double;

  Love is for life, only labor is trouble;

  Truce to the town, whose best gift is a bubble:

      Come to the road!

A SPRING WOOING

  Come on walkin' wid me, Lucy; 't ain't no time to mope erroun'

    Wen de sunshine 's shoutin' glory in de sky,

  An' de little Johnny-Jump-Ups 's jes' a-springin' f'om de groun',

    Den a-lookin' roun' to ax each othah w'y.

  Don' you hyeah dem cows a-mooin'? Dat 's dey howdy to de spring;

    Ain' dey lookin' most oncommon satisfied?

  Hit 's enough to mek a body want to spread dey mouf an' sing

    Jes' to see de critters all so spa'klin'-eyed.

  W'y dat squir'l dat jes' run past us, ef I did n' know his tricks,

    I could swaih he 'd got 'uligion jes' to-day;

  An' dem liza'ds slippin' back an' fofe ermong de stones an' sticks

    Is a-wigglin' 'cause dey feel so awful gay.

  Oh, I see yo' eyes a-shinin' dough you try to mek me b'lieve

    Dat you ain' so monst'ous happy 'cause you come;

  But I tell you dis hyeah weathah meks it moughty ha'd to 'ceive

    Ef a body's soul ain' blin' an' deef an' dumb.

  Robin whistlin' ovah yandah ez he buil' his little nes';

    Whut you reckon dat he sayin' to his mate?

  He's a-sayin' dat he love huh in de wo'ds she know de bes',

    An' she lookin' moughty pleased at whut he state.

  Now, Miss Lucy, dat ah robin sholy got his sheer o' sense,

    An' de hen-bird got huh mothah-wit fu' true;

  So I t'ink ef you 'll ixcuse me, fu' I do' mean no erfence,

    Dey 's a lesson in dem birds fu' me an' you.

  I 's a-buil'in' o' my cabin, an' I 's vines erbove de do'

    Fu' to kin' o' gin it sheltah f'om de sun;

  Gwine to have a little kitchen wid a reg'lar wooden flo',

    An' dey 'll be a back verandy w'en hit 's done.

  I 's a-waitin' fu' you, Lucy, tek de 'zample o' de birds,

    Dat 's a-lovin' an' a-matin' evahwhaih.

  I cain' tell you dat I loves you in de robin's music wo'ds,

    But my cabin 's talkin' fu' me ovah thaih!

JOGGIN' ERLONG

  De da'kest hour, dey allus say,

  Is des' befo' de dawn,

  But it's moughty ha'd a-waitin'

  W'ere de night goes frownin' on;

  An' it's moughty ha'd a-hopin'

  W'en de clouds is big an' black,

  An' all de t'ings you 's waited fu'

  Has failed, er gone to wrack--

  But des' keep on a-joggin' wid a little bit o' song,

  De mo'n is allus brightah w'en de night's been long.

  Dey 's lots o' knocks you 's got to tek

  Befo' yo' journey 's done,

  An' dey 's times w'en you 'll be wishin'

  Dat de weary race was run;

  W'en you want to give up tryin'

  An' des' float erpon de wave,

  W'en you don't feel no mo' sorrer

  Ez you t'ink erbout de grave--

  Den, des' keep on a-joggin' wid a little bit o' song,

  De mo'n is allus brightah w'en de night's been long.

  De whup-lash sting a good deal mo'

  De back hit 's knowed befo',

  An' de burden 's allus heavies'

  Whaih hits weight has made a so';

  Dey is times w'en tribulation

  Seems to git de uppah han'

  An' to whip de weary trav'lah

  'Twell he ain't got stren'th to stan'--

  But des' keep on a-joggin' wid a little bit o' song,

  De mo'n is allus brightah w'en de night's been long.

IN MAY

  Oh to have you in May,

    To talk with you under the trees,

  Dreaming throughout the day,

    Drinking the wine-like breeze,

  Oh it were sweet to think

    That May should be ours again,

  Hoping it not, I shrink,

    Out of the sight of men.

  May brings the flowers to bloom,

    It brings the green leaves to the tree,

  And the fatally sweet perfume,

    Of what you once were to me.

DREAMS

  What dreams we have and how they fly

  Like rosy clouds across the sky;

    Of wealth, of fame, of sure success,

    Of love that comes to cheer and bless;

  And how they wither, how they fade,

  The waning wealth, the jilting jade--

    The fame that for a moment gleams,

    Then flies forever,--dreams, ah--dreams!

  O burning doubt and long regret,

  O tears with which our eyes are wet,

    Heart-throbs, heart-aches, the glut of pain,

    The somber cloud, the bitter rain,

  You were not of those dreams--ah! well,

  Your full fruition who can tell?

    Wealth, fame, and love, ah! love that beams

    Upon our souls, all dreams--ah! dreams.

THE TRYST

  De night creep down erlong de lan',

    De shadders rise an' shake,

  De frog is sta'tin' up his ban',

    De cricket is awake;

  My wo'k is mos' nigh done, Celes',

    To-night I won't be late,

  I 's hu'yin' thoo my level bes',

    Wait fu' me by de gate.

  De mockin'-bird 'll sen' his glee

    A-thrillin' thoo and thoo,

  I know dat ol' magnolia-tree

    Is smellin' des' fu' you;

  De jessamine erside de road

    Is bloomin' rich an' white,

  My hea't 's a-th'obbin' 'cause it knowed

    You 'd wait fu' me to-night.

  Hit 's lonesome, ain't it, stan'in' thaih

    Wid no one nigh to talk?

  But ain't dey whispahs in de aih

    Erlong de gyahden walk?

  Don't somep'n kin' o' call my name,

    An' say "he love you bes'"?

  Hit 's true, I wants to say de same,

    So wait fu' me, Celes'.

  Sing somep'n fu' to pass de time,

    Outsing de mockin'-bird,

  You got de music an' de rhyme,

    You beat him wid de word.

  I 's comin' now, my wo'k is done,

    De hour has come fu' res',

  I wants to fly, but only run--

    Wait fu' me, deah Celes'.

A PLEA

  Treat me nice, Miss Mandy Jane,

      Treat me nice.

  Dough my love has tu'ned my brain,

      Treat me nice.

  I ain't done a t'ing to shame,

  Lovahs all ac's jes' de same;

  Don't you know we ain't to blame?

      Treat me nice!

  Cose I know I 's talkin' wild;

      Treat me nice;

  I cain't talk no bettah, child,

      Treat me nice;

  Whut a pusson gwine to do,

  Wen he come a-cou'tin' you

  All a-trimblin' thoo and thoo?

      Please be nice.

  Reckon I mus' go de paf

      Othahs do:

  Lovahs lingah, ladies laff;

      Mebbe you

  Do' mean all the things you say,

  An' pu'haps some latah day

  W'en I baig you ha'd, you may

      Treat me nice!

THE DOVE

  Out of the sunshine and out of the heat,

  Out of the dust of the grimy street,

  A song fluttered down in the form of a dove,

  And it bore me a message, the one word--Love!

  Ah, I was toiling, and oh, I was sad:

  I had forgotten the way to be glad.

  Now, smiles for my sadness and for my toil, rest

  Since the dove fluttered down to its home in my breast!

A WARM DAY IN WINTER

  "Sunshine on de medders,

    Greenness on de way;

  Dat 's de blessed reason

    I sing all de day."

  Look hyeah! Whut you axin'?

    Whut meks me so merry?

  'Spect to see me sighin'

    W'en hit's wa'm in Febawary?

  'Long de stake an' rider

    Seen a robin set;

  W'y hit 'mence a-thawin',

    Groun' is monst'ous wet.

  Den you stan' dah wond'rin',

    Lookin' skeert an' stary;

  I's a right to caper

    W'en hit's wa'm in Febawary.

  Missis gone a-drivin',

    Mastah gone to shoot;

  Ev'ry da'ky lazin'

    In de sun to boot.

  Qua'tah 's moughty pleasant,

    Hangin' 'roun' my Mary;

  Cou'tin' boun' to prospah

    W'en hit's wa'm in Febawary.

  Cidah look so pu'ty

    Po'in' f'om de jug--

  Don' you see it's happy?

    Hyeah it laffin'--glug?

  Now's de time fu' people

    Fu' to try an' bury

  All dey grief an' sorrer,

    W'en hit's wa'm in Febawary.

SNOWIN'

  Dey is snow upon de meddahs, dey is snow upon de hill,

  An' de little branch's watahs is all glistenin' an' still;

  De win' goes roun' de cabin lak a sperrit wan'erin' 'roun'.

  An' de chillen shakes an' shivahs as dey listen to de soun'.

  Dey is hick'ry in de fiahplace, whah de blaze is risin' high,

  But de heat it meks ain't wa'min' up de gray clouds in de sky.

  Now an' den I des peep outside, den I hurries to de do',

  Lawd a mussy on my body, how I wish it would n't snow!

  I kin stan' de hottes' summah, I kin stan' de wettes' fall,

  I kin stan' de chilly springtime in de ploughland, but dat's all;

  Fu' de ve'y hottes' fiah nevah tells my skin a t'ing,

  W'en de snow commence a-flyin', an' de win' begin to sing.

  Dey is plenty wood erroun' us, an' I chop an' tote it in,

  But de t'oughts dat I 's a t'inkin' while I 's wo'kin' is a sin.

  I kin keep f'om downright swahin' all de time I 's on de go,

  But my hea't is full o' cuss-wo'ds w'en I's trampin' thoo de snow.

  What you say, you Lishy Davis, dat you see a possum's tracks?

  Look hyeah, boy, you stop yo' foolin', bring ol' Spot, an' bring de ax.

  Is I col'? Go way, now, Mandy, what you t'ink I's made of?--sho,

  W'y dis win' is des ez gentle, an' dis ain't no kin' o' snow.

  Dis hyeah weathah 's des ez healthy ez de wa'mest summah days.

  All you chillen step up lively, pile on wood an' keep a blaze.

  What's de use o' gittin' skeery case dey 's snow upon de groun'?

  Huh-uh, I 's a reg'lar snowbird ef dey 's any possum 'roun'.

  Go on, Spot, don' be so foolish; don' you see de signs o' feet.

  What you howlin' fu? Keep still, suh, cose de col' is putty sweet;

  But we goin' out on bus'ness, an' hit 's bus'ness o' de kin'

  Dat mus' put a dog an' dahky in a happy frame o' min'.

  Yes, you 's col'; I know it, Spotty, but you des stay close to me,

  An' I 'll mek you hot ez cotton w'en we strikes de happy tree.

  No, I don' lak wintah weathah, an' I 'd wush 't uz allus June,

  Ef it was n't fu' de trackin' o' de possum an' de coon.

KEEP A SONG UP ON DE WAY

  Oh, de clouds is mighty heavy

  An' de rain is mighty thick;

   Keep a song up on de way.

  An' de waters is a rumblin'

  On de boulders in de crick,

    Keep a song up on de way.

  Fu' a bird ercross de road

  Is a-singin' lak he knowed

  Dat we people did n't daih

  Fu' to try de rainy aih

    Wid a song up on de way.

  What's de use o' gittin' mopy,

  Case de weather ain' de bes'!

    Keep a song up on de way.

  W'en de rain is fallin' ha'des',

  Dey 's de longes' times to res'

    Keep a song up on de way.

  Dough de plough 's a-stan'in' still

  Dey 'll be watah fu' de mill,

  Rain mus' come ez well ez sun

  'Fo' de weathah's wo'k is done,

    Keep a song up on de way.

  W'y hit's nice to hyeah de showahs

  Fallin' down ermong de trees:

    Keep a song up on de way.

  Ef de birds don' bothah 'bout it,

  But go singin' lak dey please,

    Keep a song up on de way.

  You don' s'pose I's gwine to see

  Dem ah fowls do mo' dan me?

  No, suh, I 'll des chase dis frown,

  An' aldough de rain fall down,

    Keep a song up on de way.

THE TURNING OF THE BABIES IN THE BED

  Woman's sho' a cur'ous critter, an' dey ain't no doubtin' dat.

  She's a mess o' funny capahs f'om huh slippahs to huh hat.

  Ef you tries to un'erstan' huh, an' you fails, des' up an' say:

  "D' ain't a bit o' use to try to un'erstan' a woman's way."

  I don' mean to be complainin', but I 's jes' a-settin' down

  Some o' my own obserwations, w'en I cas' my eye eroun'.

  Ef you ax me fu' to prove it, I ken do it mighty fine,

  Fu' dey ain't no bettah 'zample den dis ve'y wife o' mine.

  In de ve'y hea't o' midnight, w'en I 's sleepin' good an' soun',

  I kin hyeah a so't o' rustlin' an' somebody movin' 'roun'.

  An' I say, "Lize, whut you doin'?" But she frown an' shek huh haid,

  "Heish yo' mouf, I's only tu'nin' of de chillun in de bed.

  "Don' you know a chile gits restless, layin' all de night one way?

  An' you' got to kind o' 'range him sev'al times befo' de day?

  So de little necks won't worry, an' de little backs won't break;

  Don' you t'ink case chillun 's chillun dey hain't got no pain an' ache."

  So she shakes 'em, an' she twists 'em, an' she tu'ns 'em 'roun' erbout,

  'Twell I don' see how de chillun evah keeps f'om hollahin' out.

  Den she lif's 'em up head down'ards, so's dey won't git livahgrown,

  But dey snoozes des' ez peaceful ez a liza'd on a stone.

  W'en hit's mos' nigh time fu' wakin' on de dawn o' jedgment day,

  Seems lak I kin hyeah ol' Gab'iel lay his trumpet down an' say,

  "Who dat walkin' 'roun' so easy, down on earf ermong de dead?"--

  'T will be Lizy up a-tu'nin' of de chillun in de bed.

THE DANCE

  Heel and toe, heel and toe,

   That is the song we sing;

  Turn to your partner and curtsey low,

   Balance and forward and swing.

  Corners are draughty and meadows are white,

  This is the game for a winter's night.

  Hands around, hands around,

    Trip it, and not too slow;

  Clear is the fiddle and sweet its sound,

    Keep the girls' cheeks aglow.

  Still let your movements be dainty and light,

  This is the game for a winter's night.

  Back to back, back to back,

    Turn to your place again;

  Never let lightness nor nimbleness lack,

    Either in maidens or men.

  Time hasteth ever, beware of its flight,

  Oh, what a game for a winter's night!

  Slower now, slower now,

    Softer the music sighs;

  Look, there are beads on your partner's brow

    Though there be light in her eyes.

  Lead her away and her grace requite,

  So goes the game on a winter's night.

SOLILOQUY OF A TURKEY

  Dey 's a so't o' threatenin' feelin' in de blowin' of de breeze,

    An' I 's feelin' kin' o' squeamish in de night;

  I 's a-walkin' 'roun' a-lookin' at de diffunt style o' trees,

    An' a-measurin' dey thickness an' dey height.

  Fu' dey 's somep'n mighty 'spicious in de looks de da'kies give,

    Ez dey pass me an' my fambly on de groun,'

  So it 'curs to me dat lakly, ef I caihs to try an' live,

    It concehns me fu' to 'mence to look erroun'.

  Dey's a cu'ious kin' o' shivah runnin' up an' down my back,

    An' I feel my feddahs rufflin' all de day,

  An' my laigs commence to trimble evah blessid step I mek;

    W'en I sees a ax, I tu'ns my head away.

  Folks is go'gin' me wid goodies, an' dey 's treatin' me wid caih,

    An' I 's fat in spite of all dat I kin do.

  I 's mistrus'ful of de kin'ness dat's erroun' me evahwhaih,

    Fu' it 's jes' too good, an' frequent, to be true.

  Snow 's a-fallin' on de medders, all erroun' me now is white,

    But I 's still kep' on a-roostin' on de fence;

  Isham comes an' feels my breas'bone, an' he hefted me las' night,

    An' he 's gone erroun' a-grinnin' evah sence.

  'T ain't de snow dat meks me shivah; 't ain't de col' dat meks me

       shake;

    'T ain't de wintah-time itse'f dat's 'fectin' me;

  But I t'ink de time is comin', an' I 'd bettah mek a break,

    Fu' to set wid Mistah Possum in his tree.

  Wen you hyeah de da'kies singin', an' de quahtahs all is gay,

    'T ain't de time fu' birds lak me to be 'erroun';

  Wen de hick'ry chip is flyin', an' de log 's been ca'ied erway,

    Den hit's dang'ous to be roostin' nigh he groun'.

  Grin on, Isham! Sing on, da'kies! But I flop my wings an' go

    Fu' de sheltah of de ve'y highest tree,

  Fu' dey 's too much close ertention--an' dey's too much fallin' snow--

    An' it's too nigh Chris'mus mo'nin' now fu' me.

FISHING

  Wen I git up in de mo'nin' an' de clouds is big an' black,

  Dey's a kin' o' wa'nin' shivah goes a-scootin' down my back;

  Den I says to my ol' ooman ez I watches down de lane,

  "Don't you so't o' reckon, Lizy, dat we gwine to have some rain?"

  "Go on, man," my Lizy answah, "you cain't fool me, not a bit,

  I don't see no rain a-comin', ef you's wishin' fu' it, quit;

  Case de mo' you t'ink erbout it, an de mo' you pray an' wish,

  W'y de rain stay 'way de longah, spechul ef you wants to fish."

  But I see huh pat de skillet, an' I see huh cas' huh eye

  Wid a kin' o' anxious motion to'ds de da'kness in de sky;

  An' I knows whut she 's a-t'inkin', dough she tries so ha'd to hide.

  She 's a-sayin', "Would n't catfish now tas'e monst'ous bully, fried?"

  Den de clouds git black an' blackah, an' de thundah 'mence to roll,

  An' de rain, it 'mence a-fallin'. Oh, I's happy, bless my soul!

  Ez I look at dat ol' skillet, an' I 'magine I kin see

  Jes' a slew o' new-ketched catfish sizzlin' daih fu' huh an' me.

  'T ain't no use to go a-ploughin', fu' de groun' 'll be too wet,

  So I puts out fu' de big house at a moughty pace, you bet,

  An' ol' mastah say, "Well, Lishy, ef you t'ink hit 's gwine to rain,

  Go on fishin', hit 's de weathah, an' I 'low we cain't complain."

  Talk erbout a dahky walkin' wid his haid up in de aih!

  Have to feel mine evah minute to be sho' I got it daih;

  En' de win' is cuttin' capahs an' a-lashin' thoo de trees,

  But de rain keeps on a-singin' blessed songs, lak "Tek yo' ease."

  Wid my pole erpon my shouldah an' my wo'm can in my han',

  I kin feel de fish a-waitin' w'en I strikes de rivah's san';

  Nevah min', you ho'ny scoun'els, need n' swim erroun' an' grin,

  I 'll be grinnin' in a minute w'en I 'mence to haul you in.

  W'en de fish begin to nibble, an' de co'k begin to jump,

  I 's erfeahed dat dey 'll quit bitin', case dey hyeah my hea't go "thump,"

  'Twell de co'k go way down undah, an' I raise a awful shout,

  Ez a big ol' yallah belly comes a gallivantin' out.

  Need n't wriggle, Mistah Catfish, case I got you jes' de same,

  You been eatin', I 'll be eatin', an' we needah ain't to blame.

  But you need n't feel so lonesome fu' I 's th'owin' out to see

  Ef dey ain't some of yo' comrades fu' to keep you company.

  Spo't, dis fishin'! now you talkin', w'y dey ain't no kin' to beat;

  I don' keer ef I is soakin', laigs, an' back, an' naik, an' feet,

  It 's de spo't I 's lookin' aftah. Hit 's de pleasure an' de fun,

  Dough I knows dat Lizy 's waitin' wid de skillet w'en I's done.

A PLANTATION PORTRAIT

  Hain't you see my Mandy Lou,

    Is it true?

  Whaih you been f'om day to day,

    Whaih, I say?

  Dat you say you nevah seen

    Dis hyeah queen

  Walkin' roun' f'om fiel' to street

    Smilin' sweet?

  Slendah ez a saplin' tree;

    Seems to me

  Wen de win' blow f'om de bay

    She jes' sway

  Lak de reg'lar saplin' do

    Ef hit's grew

  Straight an' graceful, 'dout a limb,

    Sweet an' slim.

  Browner den de frush's wing,

    An' she sing

  Lak he mek his wa'ble ring

    In de spring;

  But she sholy beat de frush,

    Hyeah me, hush:

  Wen she sing, huh teef kin show

    White ez snow.

  Eyes ez big an' roun' an' bright

    Ez de light

  Whut de moon gives in de prime

    Harvest time.

  An' huh haih a woolly skein,

    Black an' plain.

  Hol's you wid a natchul twis'

    Close to bliss.

  Tendah han's dat mek yo' own

    Feel lak stone;

  Easy steppin', blessid feet,

    Small an' sweet.

  Hain't you seen my Mandy Lou,

    Is it true?

  Look at huh befo' she's gone,

    Den pass on!

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS BASKET

  De win' is hollahin' "Daih you" to de shuttahs an' de fiah,

    De snow's a-sayin' "Got you" to de groun',

  Fu' de wintah weathah 's come widout a-askin' ouah desiah,

    An' he 's laughin' in his sleeve at whut he foun';

  Fu' dey ain't nobody ready wid dey fuel er dey food,

    An' de money bag look timid lak, fu' sho',

  So we want ouah Chrismus sermon, but we 'd lak it ef you could

    Leave a little Chrismus basket at de do'.

  Wha 's de use o' tellin' chillen 'bout a Santy er a Nick,

    An' de sto'ies dat a body allus tol'?

  When de harf is gray wid ashes an' you has n't got a stick

    Fu' to warm dem when dey little toes is col'?

  Wha 's de use o' preachin' 'ligion to a man dat's sta'ved to def,

    An' a-tellin' him de Mastah will pu'vide?

  Ef you want to tech his feelin's, save yo' sermons an' yo' bref,

    Tek a little Chrismus basket by yo' side.

  'T ain't de time to open Bibles an' to lock yo' cellah do',

    'T ain't de time to talk o' bein' good to men;

  Ef you want to preach a sermon ez you nevah preached befo',

    Preach dat sermon wid a shoat er wid er hen;

  Bein' good is heap sight bettah den a-dallyin' wid sin,

    An' dey ain't nobody roun' dat knows it mo',

  But I t'ink dat 'ligion 's sweeter w'en it kind o' mixes in

    Wid a little Chrismus basket at de do'.

THE VALSE

  When to sweet music my lady is dancing

    My heart to mild frenzy her beauty inspires.

  Into my face are her brown eyes a-glancing,

    And swift my whole frame thrills with tremulous fires.

  Dance, lady, dance, for the moments are fleeting,

    Pause not to place yon refractory curl;

  Life is for love and the night is for sweeting;