His Dancing Days

Never did I find me mate for charmin' an' delightin',
Never one that had me bate for courtin' an' for fightin';--
(A white moon at the crossroads then, and Denny with the fiddle;
The parish round admirin', when I danced down the middle.)
Up the earth and down again, me like you'd not discover;
Arrah! for the times before me dancin' days were over!

Never was a moon so low it didn't find me courtin',
Never blade I couldn't show a wilder way of sportin'.
(Is it at the fair I'd be, the gentry'd troop to talk with me;
Leapin' with delight was she,--the girl I'd choose to walk with me.)
'Twas I could win the pick of them from any lad or lover;
Arrah! for the times before me dancin' days were over!

What's come to all the lads to-day,--these mournful ways they're keepin',
Grudgin' any hour to play and wastin' nights in sleepin'.
(Readin' be the chimney-place,--that dacent in their habits,
You'd sooner get a fight or song be callin' upon rabbits.)
Faith, I'd change the lot for one rejoicin', rantin' rover,
The like of me, myself, before me dancin' days were over.

Theodosia Garrison

Theodosia Garrison was an American poet known for her lyrical and often melancholic verse. Born on May 26, 1874, her poetry often explored themes of love, loss, and introspection. Throughout her career, Garrison contributed to various literary magazines and became a respected figure in the early 20th-century literary circles. She passed away on August 27, 1944, leaving behind a legacy of poignant and expressive poetry.

Theodosia Garrison

The Introduction

Theodosia Garrison, Simple Poetry

Monseigneur Plays

Theodosia Garrison, Simple Poetry

The Broken Lute

Theodosia Garrison, Simple Poetry

A Song Of Heloise

Theodosia Garrison, Simple Poetry

English

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My Dancin'-Days Is Over

What is it in old fiddle-chunes 'at makes me ketch my breath
And ripples up my backbone tel I'm tickled most to death? -
Kindo' like that sweet-sick feelin', in the long sweep of a swing,
The first you ever swung in, with yer first sweet-heart, i jing! -
Yer first picnic - yer first ice-cream - yer first o' ever'thing
    'At happened 'fore yer dancin'-days wuz over!

I never understood it - and I s'pose I never can, -
But right in town here, yisterd'y, I heerd a pore blindman
A-fiddlin' old "Gray Eagle" - And-sir! I jes stopped my load
O' hay and listened at him - yes, and watched the way he "bow'd," -
And back I went, plum forty year', with boys and girls I knowed
    And loved, long 'fore my dancin'-days wuz over! -

At high noon in yer city, - with yer...

James Whitcomb Riley

The Silent One

The moon to-night is like the sun
Through blossomed branches seen;
Come out with me, dear silent one,
And trip it on the green.

"Nay, Lad, go you within its light,
Nor stay to urge me so--
'Twas on another moonlit night
My heart broke long ago."

Oh loud and high the pipers play
To speed the dancers on;
Come out and be as glad as they,
Oh, little Silent one.

"Nay, Lad, where all your mates are met
Go you the selfsame way,
Another dance I would forget
Wherein I too was gay."

But here you sit long day by day
With those whose joys are done;
What mates these townfolk old and grey
For you dear Silent one.

"Nay, Lad, they're done with joys and fears.
Rare comrades should we prove,
For they are very old with ...

Theodosia Garrison

The Dance At The Phoenix

To Jenny came a gentle youth
From inland leazes lone,
His love was fresh as apple-blooth
By Parrett, Yeo, or Tone.
And duly he entreated her
To be his tender minister,
And call him aye her own.

Fair Jenny's life had hardly been
A life of modesty;
At Casterbridge experience keen
Of many loves had she
From scarcely sixteen years above;
Among them sundry troopers of
The King's-Own Cavalry.

But each with charger, sword, and gun,
Had bluffed the Biscay wave;
And Jenny prized her gentle one
For all the love he gave.
She vowed to be, if they were wed,
His honest wife in heart and head
From bride-ale hour to grave.

Wedded they were. Her husband's trust
In Jenny knew no bound,
And Jenny kept her pure and just,
T...

Thomas Hardy

The Soldier's Home.

My untried muse shall no high tone assume,
Nor strut in arms; - farewell my cap and plume:
Brief be my verse, a task within my power,
I tell my feelings in one happy hour;
But what an hour was that! when from the main
I reach'd this lovely valley once again!
A glorious harvest fill'd my eager sight,
Half shock'd, half waving in a flood of light;
On that poor cottage roof where I was born
The sun look'd down as in life's early morn.
I gazed around, but not a soul appear'd,
I listen'd on the threshold, nothing heard;
I call'd my father thrice, but no one came;
It was not fear or grief that shook my frame,
But an o'erpowering sense of peace and home,
Of toils gone by, perhaps of joys to come.
The door invitingly stood open wide,
I shook my dust, and set my s...

Robert Bloomfield

Little Oliver

EARL JOYCE he was a kind old party
Whom nothing ever could put out,
Though eighty-two, he still was hearty,
Excepting as regarded gout.

He had one unexampled daughter,
The LADY MINNIE-HAHA JOYCE,
Fair MINNIE-HAHA, "Laughing Water,"
So called from her melodious voice.

By Nature planned for lover-capture,
Her beauty every heart assailed;
The good old nobleman with rapture
Observed how widely she prevailed

Aloof from all the lordly flockings
Of titled swells who worshipped her,
There stood, in pumps and cotton stockings,
One humble lover OLIVER.

He was no peer by Fortune petted,
His name recalled no bygone age;
He was no lordling coronetted
Alas! he was a simple page!

With vain appeals he never bored her,
But...

William Schwenck Gilbert

The Lonely Dancer

I had no heart to join the dance,
    I danced it all so long ago -
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,

Richard Le Gallienne