The Dancing Girl
Whence I did take my chisel to stone
Carved I a damsel in rock
She bore the finest curves
As men bespoke of in droves
Each part was etched to my delight
Till the earliest hours of light
Her eyes they seemed to speak
Of being demure and meek
An ornament adorned her neck
And sank into her bosom
Her cheeks didn't tell
The pain that befell
Her waist twisted as if in dance
Her head bowed forward
Arms akimbo
Legs bent in a bow
The tale within her
Lips so sealed
As if in protest
To an unknown test
Said the carver to himself
I shall carve in your likeness
Of all the grief you have borne
When you are gone.
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