Diana
The full moon is up in the space,
And the betrothed runs out
Of her room into the palace court,
And innocently, into the old maze place,
Creeping and stumbling over stones and scree,
She enters into the circular sand, rounded by tall pine
trees;
She looks lust at the dreamy moon,
While she begins to hum
To herself out of breathe,
And cry to the god of beat:
Sweet beat comes into my dancing room,
I will dance most superbly for you to see
O sweet beat, do this for me;else my doom
I will be what you want me to be,
Pan the mystery king begins the beat
Measuring in regular beat,
And she swings to the rhythmical beat;
Arms twisting and legs stepping
Spinning and pirouetting and swaying
Leaping and laughter in wanton,
The dance is as light as pullet’s plume
Windy as a brief love affair potion
And smooth as silk and soft as cotton.
Pan the god of the beat suddenly loom,
Holds her heaving silhouette
She moans a muffle croaking,
And through the night the beat grows quiet
Merry-go-rounding in pleasure,
They trot and tango and ankles go numb,
Her pink satin shoes glide on the silvery wings,
His cloven hooves stepping delicately with measure
Excited tail free, twirling and wallowing,
And the lecherous god of the beat dance her toward his
tomb,
And to the beat of rock
In her peril,
Echoing the wedlock,
In his rock castle in the hill.
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