Page:Poems Cook.djvu/304

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DANCING SONG.
    Dance, dance, as long as ye can:
We must travel through life, but why make a dead march of it?
    The fine linen of state may sit well upon man,
But 'tis pleasant, methinks, just to rub out the starch of it.

    Dance, dance, as long as ye may:
See the plumes of the pine, how they dance on the mountain;
    See, the ocean floods dance while the winds pipe and play;
See, the radiant bubble-drops dance in the fountain!

    Dance, dance; let no cynic rebel:
See, the stars are for ever all dancing and twinkling!—
    'Tis the music of spheres which they dance to so well,
And that music is ceaseless, though soft be the tinkling.

    Dance, dance, every one:
The gnats round our heads dance in endless gyration;
    The very worlds foot it away round the sun,
Keeping up the old figure first led by Creation.

    Dance, dance see the sweet rose
Bend to the blue-bell, in light minuetting!
    Summer leaves fall when the autumn gust blows,
But they dance and die merrily, wildly poussetting.

    Dance, dance: look on the rill!
The white lilies nod, and the bulrushes quiver;
    The beautiful water-flags, when are they still?
They dance in the mill-pond, they dance in the river.

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