The Master of the Dance

A chant to which it is intended a group of children shall dance and improvise pantomime led by their dancing-teacher.


            I

    A master deep-eyed
    Ere his manhood was ripe,
    He sang like a thrush,
    He could play any pipe.
    So dull in the school
    That he scarcely could spell,
    He read but a bit,
    And he figured not well.
    A bare-footed fool,
    Shod only with grace;
    Long hair streaming down
    Round a wind-hardened face;
    He smiled like a girl,
    Or like clear winter skies,
    A virginal light
    Making stars of his eyes.
    In swiftness and poise,
    A proud child of the deer,
    A white fawn he was,
    Yet a fawn without fear.
    No youth thought him vain,
    Or made mock of his hair,
    Or laughed when his ways
    Were most curiously fair.
    A mastiff at fight,
    He could strike to the earth
    The envious one
    Who would challenge his worth.
    However we bowed
    To the schoolmaster mild,
    Our spirits went out
    To the fawn-footed child.
    His beckoning led
    Our troop to the brush.
    We found nothing there
    But a wind and a hush.
    He sat by a stone
    And he looked on the ground,
    As if in the weeds
    There was something profound.
    His pipe seemed to neigh,
    Then to bleat like a sheep,
    Then sound like a stream
    Or a waterfall deep.
    It whispered strange tales,
    Human words it spoke not.
    Told fair things to come,
    And our marvellous lot
    If now with fawn-steps
    Unshod we advanced
    To the midst of the grove
    And in reverence danced.
    We obeyed as he piped
    Soft grass to young feet,
    Was a medicine mighty,
    A remedy meet.
    Our thin blood awoke,
    It grew dizzy and wild,
    Though scarcely a word
    Moved the lips of a child.
    Our dance gave allegiance,
    It set us apart,
    We tripped a strange measure,
    Uplifted of heart.


            II

    We thought to be proud
    Of our fawn everywhere.
    We could hardly see how
    Simple books were a care.
    No rule of the school
    This strange student could tame.
    He was banished one day,
    While we quivered with shame.
    He piped back our love
    On a moon-silvered night,
    Enticed us once more
    To the place of delight.
    A greeting he sang
    And it made our blood beat,
    It tramped upon custom
    And mocked at defeat.
    He builded a fire
    And we tripped in a ring,
    The embers our books
    And the fawn our good king.
    And now we approached
    All the mysteries rare
    That shadowed his eyelids
    And blew through his hair.
    That spell now was peace
    The deep strength of the trees,
    The children of nature
    We clambered her knees.
    Our breath and our moods
    Were in tune with her own,
    Tremendous her presence,
    Eternal her throne.
    The ostracized child
    Our white foreheads kissed,
    Our bodies and souls
    Became lighter than mist.
    Sweet dresses like snow
    Our small lady-loves wore,
    Like moonlight the thoughts
    That our bosoms upbore.
    Like a lily the touch
    Of each cold little hand.
    The loves of the stars
    We could now understand.
    O quivering air!
    O the crystalline night!
    O pauses of awe
    And the faces swan-white!
    O ferns in the dusk!
    O forest-shrined hour!
    O earth that sent upward
    The thrill and the power,
    To lift us like leaves,
    A delirious whirl,
    The masterful boy
    And the delicate girl!
    What child that strange night-time
    Can ever forget?
    His fealty due
    And his infinite debt
    To the folly divine,
    To the exquisite rule
    Of the perilous master,
    The fawn-footed fool?


            III

    Now soldiers we seem,
    And night brings a new thing,
    A terrible ire,
    As of thunder awing.
    A warrior power,
    That old chivalry stirred,
    When knights took up arms,
    As the maidens gave word.
    THE END OF OUR WAR,
    WILL BE GLORY UNTOLD.
    WHEN THE TOWN LIKE A GREAT
    BUDDING ROSE SHALL UNFOLD!
    Near, nearer that war,
    And that ecstasy comes,
    We hear the trees beating
    Invisible drums.
    The fields of the night
    Are starlit above,
    Our girls are white torches
    Of conquest and love.
    No nerve without will,
    And no breast without breath,
    We whirl with the planets
    That never know death!