Damarel Danced for the King

DAMAREL danced for the King between the dark and the light:
Our pulses swung to the beat and rush of the wonderful feet,
(Ah ! restless, flickering feet!)
While the East grew dimly bright.
And the arches throbbed with the ring of her golden ankle-bell
That caught the light as it fell from the misty garments’ swing,
From rounded, gleaming wrist,
From hair the sun had kissed,
And flashed it golden bright on the jewels of the throne,
Till they glowed in the scented night, where the King sat all alone,
— The old King sat alone,—
To watch, perchance to dream ; his dull eyes caught by the gleam
Of bell and glancing feet, where Damarel danced and shone.
Will the memory never fade of that witching, wonderful night,
When we watched the East grow bright as wild, white Damarel swayed?
Why do our pulses swell with the dear, old-new delight ?
What was the magic spell, dulling all after-sting
With the peace of outlived bliss?
Who can tell more than this:
Between the dark and the light, Damarel danced for the King.
Katharine Aldrich.