(A Lady of Tender Age) <br /> <br />Ladies, where were your bright eyes glancing, <br />Where were they glancing yester-night? <br />Saw ye Imogen dancing, dancing, <br />Imogen dancing all in white? <br />Laughed she not with a pure delight, <br />Laughed she not with a joy serene, <br />Stepped she not with a grace entrancing, <br />Slenderly girt in silken sheen? <br /> <br />All through the night from dusk to daytime <br />Under her feet the hours were swift, <br />Under her feet the hours of play-time <br />Rose and fell with a rhythmic lift: <br />Music set her adrift, adrift, <br />Music eddying towards the day <br />Swept her along as brooks in May-time <br />Carry the freshly falling May. <br /> <br />Ladies, life is a changing measure, <br />Youth is a lilt that endeth soon; <br />Pluck ye never so fast at pleasure <br />Twilight follows the longest noon. <br />Nay, but here is a lasting boon, <br />Life for hearts that are old and chill, <br />Youth undying for hearts that treasure <br />Imogen dancing, dancing still.<br /><br />Sir Henry Newbolt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/imogen/
