Here where the swaying dancers float,The heady perfume swimming roundYour slender arms and virginal throatThrills me though riper loves abound.
The passionate eyes and lids of herWhose face gleams white in many a foldOf coiling wondrous sombre hair,The blue eyes in the wreath of gold,
These turn to me in vain, who prizeYou more than all the loves and lyres,For from your unfilled corsage riseThe perfumes that my soul desires.
Ah might I dance for ever, bentToward your bosom's clouded gleam,And let the lilies' acrid scentWithhold me in the world of dream!
