Henry C. Thomas

DANCE on, dance swift to your flute’s song,

Girl of the setting sun!

The waves are wild to do you wrong

Before the dance is done;

But your white fleeting feet

Have caught the sway and beat

Of the ocean’s eager cry.

The wave-men vainly strain

To drown your slow refrain

And the flute’s mellow sigh.

Dance on, dance swift, light on the breeze—

You, the pale sea’s fair daughter!

The sun has set beyond the seas

In lakes of gilded water.

So play like tossing spray

As mistily fades the day,

And smoke-blue shadows creep.

Now tread one rhythm more,

Then rest upon the shore

And pipe the waves to sleep.