He thinks her little feet should pass <br />Where dandelions star thickly grass; <br />Her hands should lift in sunlit air <br />Sea-wind should tangle up her hair. <br />Green leaves, he says, have never heard <br />A sweeter ragtime mockingbird, <br />Nor has the moon-man ever seen, <br />Or man in the spotlight, leering green, <br />Such a beguiling, smiling queen. <br /> <br />Her eyes, he says, are stars at dusk, <br />Her mouth as sweet as red-rose musk; <br />And when she dances his young heart swells <br />With flutes and viols and silver bells; <br />His brain is dizzy, his senses swim, <br />When she slants her ragtime eyes at him. . . <br /> <br />Moonlight shadows, he bids her see, <br />Move no more silently than she. <br />It was this way, he says, she came, <br />Into his cold heart, bearing flame. <br />And now that his heart is all on fire <br />Will she refuse his heart's desire?- <br />And O! has the Moon Man ever seen <br />(Or the spotlight devil, leering green) <br />A sweeter shadow upon a screen?<br /><br />Conrad Potter Aiken<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/violet-moore-and-bert-moore/
