The Dancer

The Dancer
The night I slept, I awoke in a dream
And there you stood, this lovely beam
Casting your poise, your beauty fair
As music dances in midnight’s air.
You are the song of the Troubadour,
The lute and gay tambour
loved of yore.
You dance the mazy dance of old
With your flowing robe laced with gold
And your gay attire and jeweled hair
Brush by me the odors sweet,
Where in a dream I came
To kneel and breathe love’s ardent flame
That lays burning beneath your feet.