Dancing is silent poetry.

Dancing is silent poetry.

Twelve dancers are dancing, and taking no rest,
And closely their hands together are press'd;
And soon read more

Twelve dancers are dancing, and taking no rest,
And closely their hands together are press'd;
And soon as a dance has come to a close,
Another begins, and each merrily goes.

Endearing Waltz--to thy more melting tune
Bow Irish jig, and ancient rigadoon.
Scotch reels, avaunt! and country-dance read more

Endearing Waltz--to thy more melting tune
Bow Irish jig, and ancient rigadoon.
Scotch reels, avaunt! and country-dance forego
Your future claims to each fantastic toe!
Waltz--Waltz alone--both legs and arms demands,
Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands.

O give me new figures! I can't go on dancing
The same that were taught me ten seasons ago;
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O give me new figures! I can't go on dancing
The same that were taught me ten seasons ago;
The schoolmaster over the land is advancing,
Then why is the master of dancing so slow?
It is such a bore to be always caught tripping
In dull uniformity year after year;
Invent something new, and you'll set me a skipping:
I want a new figure to dance with my Dear!

Come and trip it as ye go,
On the light fantastic toe.

Come and trip it as ye go,
On the light fantastic toe.

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground
In a light fantastic round.

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground
In a light fantastic round.

Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances
Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the meadows;
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Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances
Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the meadows;
Old fold and young together, and children mingled among them.

To brisk notes in cadence beating
Glance their many-twinkling feet.

To brisk notes in cadence beating
Glance their many-twinkling feet.

My dancing days are done.

My dancing days are done.