Seen by the Waits
Through snowy woods and shadyWe went to play a tuneTo the lonely manor-ladyBy the light of the Christmas moon.
We violed till, upward glancingTo where a mirror leaned,We saw her airily dancing,Deeming her movements screened;
Dancing alone in the room there,Thin-draped in her robe of night;Her postures, glassed in the gloom there,Were a strange phantasmal sight.
She had learnt (we heard when homing)That her roving spouse was dead;Why she had danced in the gloamingWe thought, but never said.
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