Your pen needs but a ruffle
To be Pavlova whirling.
It surely is a scalawag
A-scamping down the page.
A pretty little May-wind
The morning buds uncurling.
And then the white sweet Russian,
The dancer of the age.
Your pens the Queen of Sheba,
Such serious questions bringing,
That merry rascal Solomon
Would show a sober face:
And then again Pavlova
To set our spirits singing,
The snowy-swan bacchante
All glamour, glee and grace.
