Dear creature!--you'd swear
When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle round,
That her steps are of read more

Dear creature!--you'd swear
When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle round,
That her steps are of light, that her home is the air,
And she only par complaisance touches the ground.

The truest expression of a people is in its dances and its music.
Bodies never lie.

The truest expression of a people is in its dances and its music.
Bodies never lie.

No Sane man will dance.

No Sane man will dance.

What! the girl I adore by another embraced?
What! the balm of her breath shall another man taste?
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What! the girl I adore by another embraced?
What! the balm of her breath shall another man taste?
What! pressed in the dance by another's man's knee?
What! panting recline on another than me?
Sir, she's yours; you have pressed from the grape its fine blue,
From the rosebud you've shaken the tremulous dew;
What you've touched you may take. Pretty waltzer--adieu!

And then he danced;--all foreigners excel
The serious Angles in the eloquence
Of pantomime;--he danced, I say read more

And then he danced;--all foreigners excel
The serious Angles in the eloquence
Of pantomime;--he danced, I say right well,
With emphasis, and also with good sense--
A thing in footing indispensable:
He danced without theatrical pretence,
Not like a ballet-master in the van
Of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman.

Such pains, such pleasures now alike are o'er,
And beaus and etiquette shall soon exist no more
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Such pains, such pleasures now alike are o'er,
And beaus and etiquette shall soon exist no more
At their speed behold advancing
Modern men and women dancing;
Step and dress alike express
Above, below from heel to toe,
Male and female awkwardness.
Without a hoop, without a ruffle,
One eternal jig and shuffle,
Where's the air and where's the gait?
Where's the feather in the hat?
Where the frizzed toupee? and where
Oh! where's the powder for the hair?

A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love read more

A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell.

My dancing days are done.

My dancing days are done.

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!