Although, as ’twere beyond her will,
About her mouth the baby smile
That she was born with linger’d still.
Her ball-dress seemed a breathing mist,
From the fair form exhaled and shed,
Raised in the dance with arm and wrist
All warmth and light, unbraceleted.
Her motion, feeling ’twas beloved,
The pensive soul of tune express’d,
And, oh, what perfume, as she moved,