Classic Poem

When vagrant fancy thy strange charm recalls,
Ravished, I think of those fair dames who graced,
With mouche on lip, light foot and wasp-like waist,
The stately splendor of the Bourbon balls.

At Versailles, through the vast and frescoed halls,
I watch them, perfumed, rouged and satin-laced,
Dance the minuet with that entrancing taste
Which every true and knightly mind enthralls.

And then again, as dream to dream doth pass,
I see the Regents' roues , warm with wine,
Chat with blonde Sabran or pert Parabere,
And sloe-eyed Manon at her looking-glass,
Beckoning Des Grieux with an amorous sign,
To unwind the powdered marvel of her hair!