Classic Poem

Daphne's Foot

Fair Daphne's foot's a dainty thing,
Like those the poets used to sing.
So small is it you'd hardly dream
It had sufficient breadth of beam
To bear the weight, however slight,
'Twas made to carry, day and night.

When out upon the ball-room floor
You see it gayly tripping o'er
The polished surface in the dance,
You wonder greatly if perchance
The elfin fairies of the moon
Have not prepared her dancing shoon.

When o'er the cold bleak pave it goes
'Mid-hustling throngs, and drifting snows,
You stand aghast that such a rare
And fragile thing should venture there,
And as it nears the crossing's edge
You tremble at such sacrilege!

But O that foot! What things I've said!
What thoughts unspeakable and dread—
When to the Opera I'm inclined,
And Daphne sitting just behind
Inserts her toe 'neath where I sit
And all unthinking wiggles it!English