Imogen

by Sir Henry Newbolt

LADIES, where were your bright eyes glancing,

Where were they glancing yesternight?

Saw ye Imogen dancing, dancing,

Imogen dancing all in white?

Laughed she not with a pure delight,

Laughed she not with a joy serene,

Stepped she not with a grace entrancing,

Slenderly girt in silken sheen?

All through the night from dusk to daytime

Under her feet the hours were swift,

Under her feet the hours of playtime

Rose and fell with a rhythmic lift:

Music set her adrift, adrift,

Music eddying towards the day

Swept her along as brooks in Maytime

Carry the freshly falling may.

Ladies, life is a changing measure,

Youth is a lilt that endeth soon;

Pluck ye never so fast at pleasure

Twilight follows the longest noon.

Nay, but here is a lasting boon,

Life for hearts that are old and chill,

Youth undying for hearts that treasure

Imogen dancing, dancing still.

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