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