A NIGHT ON THE SKATING RINK.
Our rink is in motion, Like waves of the ocean, When Summer shines broad on the sea. The skaters strike out, Scarce forbearing to shout, All happy and joyous and free; And the speed of their flight, Like an arrow of light, Takes the breath from a laggard like me.
II. The exquisite whirl Of that lovely girl Has tripped up some heart—I fear— Ah! were I as young As when first I sung, And the rustics were fain to hear, I would pour out my soul In a strain that should roll Aloft to the heavenly sphere.
III. But though old enough now To have sons teach me how To voyage the crystalline floor, I yield to the power Of the jubilant hour And think of my moustache no more; For a poet, at least, Should partake of mirth’s feast Till his top is exceedingly hoar.
IV. See!—see where she flies, How adroitly she plies Those feet with the shining wings, With a graceful swerve And a classical curve, While beneath her the ice-path rings; And the wind in a freak Stops to kiss her fair cheek, Then around her in ecstacy sings.
V. Still sweep we around With a rippling sound, Keeping time to the orchestra’s swell, Which, like a bright river Falling headlong forever O’er a precipice down to the dell, Bears our troubles far hence, And entrancing each sense, Makes the world one melodious spell.
VI. Let bacchanals drink, Till like dotards they wink, Or laugh with a maniac’s stare; They embrace but the ghost Of true pleasure, at most, And their morrow is dark with despair; But the health-giving cheer, That we revel in here, Makes our lives more enduringly fair.
VII. So I’m jovial to-night With the wine of delight, I am back to my boyhood again; For a moment like this Brings a torrent of bliss That floods over heart and brain; And the era foretold By the sages of old Has commenced its millennial reign.