And cheeks of dimpled whorls and smiles of rills.
Dance, sweet, on sward of violet-crested green,
Marked with the silvery pathway of thy track—
With blue embossing ridge of hills between
And hair mist in the soft wind floating back.
And sweet with soul of aromatic leaves,
Steeped in thy crucible of sun-warmed pool,
And with the warm breath of the bay, that grieves
His love-sigh out amid thy shadows cool.
Dance, sweet, adown thy pathway’s wooded hush,