In the absence of doctors or priests or of creeds,
We then turn to conjure with magical deeds.
’Twas the same with the dancers—they wanted to live,
And were ready to take what the faker could give.
’Twas a pitiful sight and a helpless appeal,
For the dancers’ dilemma was awful and real.
Though the stronger among them their fears would conceal,
Still, their actions would show the forebodings they’d feel.
There was motive enough, there was courage; in fact,
They were anxious to dare, but were helpless to act.