THAT WALTZ.

Bruce Herald, Volume x, Issue 957, 13 November 1877, Page 7

THAT WALTZ.

How dreary existence is getting » ' What a desert my bachelor: room ! Exc«pt when I dream of that evening When all seems a fragrance and bloem. Then fancy detects the sweet rustle And tremor of si.'k and of lace ; And so strongly the feeling comes on tno That I ever imagine hep face. Such a face ! Can I ever describe it P Ah ! no ; 'tis a painters despair. Enough that it laid on my shoulder, That I felt the sweet thrill of her hair. I drank in the delicate perfume She breathed as I bore her along In the whirl and return of the measure, Through the web and whirl of the throng. Such a form ! Oh ! the sweet satisfaction Of clasping it once ; to adore Its airy and soft undulations, As we glided and swayed o'er the floor. But better than all, to be certain - Her heart was as good as her face — That her mind, I could see, fully equalled Her form in its every grace. And her voice ! Ah, there's the distraction, So tender, so mellow and clear ; Since I heard it the sweetest of music Jars the memory it left in my ear. ' They tell me 'Us hallucination, JJorn of flowers, and music, and light, And the madness and intoxication That lie in the waltz and the night. The madness is, pot to behold her ; To live in this pleasure and pain j - To watch for, and wonderjf ever I shall meet my fair waltzer again. My — lady, do you also cherish A hope your- old partner to see? I had almost called you my darling'; Well — so you are growing, to me.