Home ⇒ 📌Ella Wheeler Wilcox ⇒ A Waltz-Quadrille
A Waltz-Quadrille
The band was playing a waltz-quadrille,
I felt as light as a wind-blown feather,
As we floated away, at the caller’s will,
Through the intricate, mazy dance together.
Like mimic armies our lines were meeting,
Slowly advancing, and then retreating,
All decked in their bright array;
And back and forth to the music’s rhyme
We moved together, and all the time
I knew you were going away.
The fold of your strong arm sent a thrill
From heart to brain as we gently glided
Like leaves on the wave of that waltz-quadrille;
Parted, met, and again divided –
You drifting one way, and I another,
Then suddenly turning and facing each other,
Then off in the blithe chasse.
Then airily back to our places swaying,
While every beat of the music seemed saying
That you were going away.
I said to my heart, ‘Let us take our fill
Of mirth, and music, and love, and laughter;
For it all must end with this waltz-quadrille,
And life will never be the same life after.
Oh that the caller might go on calling!
Oh that the music might go on falling
Like a shower of silver spray,
While we whirled on to the vast Forever,
Where no hearts break, and no ties sever,
And no one goes away!
A clamour, a crash, and the band was still,
‘Twas the end of the dream, and the end of the measure:
The last low notes of that waltz-quadrille
Seemed like a dirge o’er the death of Pleasure.
You said good-night, and the spell was over –
Too warm for a friend, and too cold for a lover –
There was nothing else to say;
But the lights looked dim, and the dancers weary,
And the music was sad and the hall was dreary,
After you went away.
(2 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)Related poetry:
- Take This Waltz (After Lorca) Now in Vienna there are ten pretty women. There’s a shoulder where death comes to cry. There’s a lobby with nine hundred windows. There’s a tree where the doves go to die. There’s a piece that was torn from the morning, And it hangs in the Gallery of Frost- Ay, ay ay ay […]...
- Little Viennese Waltz In Vienna there are ten little girls, A shoulder for death to cry on, And a forest of dried pigeons. There is a fragment of tomorrow In the museum of winter frost. There is a thousand-windowed dance hall. Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this close-mouthed waltz. Little waltz, little waltz, little waltz, Of itself of […]...
- After Hearing a Waltz by Bartok But why did I kill him? Why? Why? In the small, gilded room, near the stair? My ears rack and throb with his cry, And his eyes goggle under his hair, As my fingers sink into the fair White skin of his throat. It was I! I killed him! My God! Don’t you hear? I […]...
- The Things We Dare Not Tell The fields are fair in autumn yet, and the sun’s still shining there, But we bow our heads and we brood and fret, because of the masks we wear; Or we nod and smile the social while, and we say we’re doing well, But we break our hearts, oh, we break our hearts! for the […]...
- The Lobster Quadrille “Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail, “There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail. See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! They are waiting on the shingle will you come and join the dance? Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, […]...
- Master of Music Glory of architect, glory of painter, and sculptor, and bard, Living forever in temple and picture and statue and song, Look how the world with the lights that they lit is illumined and starred, Brief was the flame of their life, but the lamps of their art burn long! Where is the Master of Music, […]...
- Chloris in the Snow I SAW fair Chloris walk alone, When feather’d rain came softly down, As Jove descending from his Tower To court her in a silver shower: The wanton snow flew to her breast, Like pretty birds into their nest, But, overcome with whiteness there, For grief it thaw’d into a tear: Thence falling on her garments’ […]...
- On Chloris Walking in the Snow I saw fair Chloris walk alone, Whilst feather’d rain came softly down, And Jove descended from his tower To court her in a silver shower. The wanton snow flew on her breast Like little birds unto their nest; But overcome with whiteness there, For grief it thaw’d into a tear; Thence falling on her garment’s […]...
- At an Old Drawer Before this scarf was faded, What hours of mirth it knew; How gayly it paraded From smiling eyes to view. The days were tinged with glory, The nights too quickly sped, And life was like a story Where all the people wed. Before this rosebud wilted, How passionately sweet The wild waltz smelled and lilted […]...
- Silentium She has not yet been born: She is music and word, And therefore the untorn, Fabric of what is stirred. Silent the ocean breathes. Madly day’s glitter roams. Spray of pale lilac foams, In a bowl of grey-blue leaves. May my lips rehearse The primordial silence, Like a note of crystal clearness, Sounding, pure from […]...
- My Papa's Waltz The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother’s countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed […]...
- The Harlot's House We caught the tread of dancing feet, We loitered down the moonlit street, And stopped beneath the harlot’s house. Inside, above the din and fray, We heard the loud musicians play The ‘Treues Liebes Herz’ of Strauss. Like strange mechanical grotesques, Making fantastic arabesques, The shadows raced across the blind. We watched the ghostly dancers […]...
- Individuality Ah yes, I love you, and with all my heart; Just as a weaker woman loves her own, Better than I love my beloved art, Which, until you came, reigned royally, alone, My king, my master. Since I saw your face I have dethroned it, and you hold that place. I am as weak as […]...
- If All the Skies If all the skies were sunshine, Our faces would be fain To feel once more upon them The cooling splash of rain. If all the world were music, Our hearts would often long For one sweet strain of silence, To break the endless song. If life were always merry, Our souls would seek relief, And […]...
- Autumn MILD is the parting year, and sweet The odour of the falling spray; Life passes on more rudely fleet, And balmless is its closing day. I wait its close, I court its gloom, But mourn that never must there fall Or on my breast or on my tomb The tear that would have soothed it […]...
- Roses And Rue (To L. L.) Could we dig up this long-buried treasure, Were it worth the pleasure, We never could learn love’s song, We are parted too long. Could the passionate past that is fled Call back its dead, Could we live it all over again, Were it worth the pain! I remember we used to meet […]...
- Love's Supremacy As yon great Sun in his supreme condition Absorbs small worlds and makes them all his own, So does my love absorb each vain ambition Each outside purpose which my life has known. Stars cannot shine so near that vast orb’s splendor, They are content to feed his flames of fire; And so my heart […]...
- The Torrent I found a torrent falling in a glen Where the sun’s light shone silvered and leaf-split; The boom, the foam, and the mad flash of it All made a magic symphony; but when I thought upon the coming of hard men To cut those patriarchal trees away, And turn to gold the silver of that […]...
- Beggarly Heart When the heart is hard and parched up, Come upon me with a shower of mercy. When grace is lost from life, Come with a burst of song. When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out from Beyond, come to me, my lord of silence, with thy peace and rest. When […]...
- View Of The Capitol From The Library Of Congress Moving from left to left, the light Is heavy on the Dome, and coarse. One small lunette turns it aside And blankly stares off to the side Like a big white old wall-eyed horse. On the east steps the Air Force Band In uniforms of Air Force blue Is playing hard and loud, but queer […]...
- Or from that Sea of Time 1 OR, from that Sea of Time, Spray, blown by the wind-a double winrow-drift of weeds and shells; (O little shells, so curious-convolute! so limpid-cold and voiceless! Yet will you not, to the tympans of temples held, Murmurs and echoes still bring up-Eternity’s music, faint and far, Wafted inland, sent from Atlantica’s rim-strains for the […]...
- To A Moralist Are the sports of our youth so displeasing? Is love but the folly you say? Benumbed with the winter, and freezing, You scold at the revels of May. For you once a nymph had her charms, And Oh! when the waltz you were wreathing, All Olympus embraced in your arms All its nectar in Julia’s […]...
- Night Stuff LISTEN a while, the moon is a lovely woman, a lonely woman, lost in a silver dress, lost in a circus rider’s silver dress. Listen a while, the lake by night is a lonely woman, a lovely woman, circled with birches and pines mixing their green and white among stars shattered in spray clear nights. […]...
- Discordants I. (Bread and Music) Music I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread; Now that I am without you, all is desolate; All that was once so beautiful is dead. Your hands once touched this table and this silver, And I have seen your fingers […]...
- The Chance To Love Everything All summer I made friends With the creatures nearby – They flowed through the fields And under the tent walls, Or padded through the door, Grinning through their many teeth, Looking for seeds, Suet, sugar; muttering and humming, Opening the breadbox, happiest when There was milk and music. But once In the night I heard […]...
- The Happy Townland There’s many a strong farmer Whose heart would break in two, If he could see the townland That we are riding to; Boughs have their fruit and blossom At all times of the year; Rivers are running over With red beer and brown beer. An old man plays the bagpipes In a golden and silver […]...
- The End Of The World Quite unexpectedly, as Vasserot The armless ambidextrian was lighting A match between his great and second toe, And Ralph the lion was engaged in biting The neck of Madame Sossman while the drum Pointed, and Teeny was about to cough In waltz-time swinging Jocko by the thumb – Quite unexpectedly the top blew off: And […]...
- THE SKY WHERE’ER he be, on water or on land, Under pale suns or climes that flames enfold; One of Christ’s own, or of Cythera’s band, Shadowy beggar or Crњsus rich with gold; Citizen, peasant, student, tramp; whate’er His little brain may be, alive or dead; Man knows the fear of mystery everywhere, And peeps, with trembling […]...
- Many Soldiers The idea danced before us as a flag; The sound of martial music; The thrill of carrying a gun; Advancement in the world on coming home; A glint of glory, wrath for foes; A dream of duty to country or to God. But these were things in ourselves, shining before us, They were not the […]...
- The Spirit of the Gay WITH the glamour of the Gay How you made our hearts to flame; Gave each life some airy aim: Ever round you seemed to play Sunlight from some inner day. Dazzling as with red and gold; Rich with beauty, love and youth- How were we to know the truth, That if all the tale were […]...
- I Won, You Lost The last of day gathers In the yellow parlor And drifts like fine dust Across the face of The gilt-framed mirror I ofien prayed to. An old man’s room Without him, a room I Came back to again And again to steal Cigarettes and loose change, To open cans of sardines, To break open crackers […]...
- Music I Heard Music I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread; Now that I am without you, all is desolate; All that was once so beautiful is dead. Your hands once touched this table and this silver, And I have seen your fingers hold this glass. These […]...
- Last Love The first flower of the spring is not so fair Or bright, as one the ripe midsummer brings. The first faint note the forest warbler sings Is not as rich with feeling, or so rare As when, full master of his art, the air Drowns in the liquid sea of song he flings Like silver […]...
- The Tenor Man Pottering around the stage, A hyperactive ancient in his own backyard – Independent of the band it seems. Disrhythmic shuffling of ashtray, Beer, a pack of cigarettes, Adjusting microphones, Then in the middle eight He draws, exhales, and catches breath, Stoops forward to the mouthpiece And blows, a tumbling counterpoint, Scales soaring from his horn. […]...
- The Zeppelin Guns! far and near Quick, sudden, angry, They startle the still street, Upturned faces appear, Doors open on darkness, There is a hurrying of feet, And whirled athwart gloom White fingers of alarm Point at last there Where illumined and dumb A shape suspended Hovers, a demon of the starry air! Strange and cold as […]...
- The Desolate Field Vast and grey, the sky Is a simulacrum To all but him whose days Are vast and grey and- In the tall, dried grasses A goat stirs With nozzle searching the ground. My head is in the air But who am I. . . ? -and my heart stops amazed At the thought of love […]...
- A Call of the Sidhe TARRY thou yet, late lingerer in the twilight’s glory: Gay are the hills with song: earth’s faery children leave More dim abodes to roam the primrose-hearted eve, Opening their glimmering lips to breathe some wondrous story. Hush, not a whisper! Let your heart alone go dreaming. Dream unto dream may pass: deep in the heart […]...
- Mollymook All week, in this rented house, sea spray and whispers of wind weave through the eucalypts, like a Sondheim melody. Through the pewter leaves the sea glimpsed from the wooden deck is, at times, teal silk. Other days it is grey. Longing stirs like waves about to break on the shore and sometimes they lift […]...
- She Weeps over Rahoon Rain on Rahoon falls softly, softly falling, Where my dark lover lies. Sad is his voice that calls me, sadly calling, At grey moonrise. Love, hear thou How soft, how sad his voice is ever calling, Ever unanswered, and the dark rain falling, Then as now. Dark too our hearts, O love, shall lie and […]...
- Moon Fishing When the moon was full they came to the water. Some with pitchforks, some with rakes, Some with sieves and ladles, And one with a silver cup. And they fished til a traveler passed them and said, “Fools, To catch the moon you must let your women Spread their hair on the water Even the […]...