SELECT POETRY.

Cromwell Argus, Volume III, Issue 152, 8 October 1872, Page 3

SELECT POETRY.

I . ♦- THAT WALTZ OF VOX WEBER, (Prom the Galaxy ) I flaily and gaily rang the gay music, The blithe, merry music of harp ami horn, . The mad, merry music, that set us a dancing I Till over the midnight came stealing the morn. | Down the great hall went waving the banners I Waving a nd waving their red, white, and blue, J As the sweet summer wind came blowing and blowing j From the city's great gardens asleep in the dew Under the flags, as they floated and floated, I Under the arches and arches of flowers, i We two and wo two floated and floated Into the mystical midnight hours. And just as the dawn came stealing and stealing, The last of those wild Weber waltzes began ; j I can hear the soft notes now appealing and pleading, And I catch the faint scent of the sandalwood fan That lay in your hand, your hand on my shoulder. As down the great hall, away and away, All under the flags and under the arches, We danced and we danced till the dawn of the day. But why should I dream o'er this dreary old ledger, In this counting-room down in this dingy old street, Of that night or that morning, just there at the dawning, When our hearts beat in time to our fast-flying feet ? What is it that brings me that scent of enchanti ment, So fragrant and fresh from out the dead years, That just for a moment I'd swear that the music Of Weber's wild waltzes was still in my ears? What is it, indeed, in this dusty old alley, That brings me that night or that morning in June ? What is it indeed ?—I laugh to confess it—i A hand-organ grinding a creaking old tune ! i ; But somewhere or other I caught in the measure I That waltz of Von Weber's, and back it all came, ] That night or that morning, just there at the dawning, When 1 danced the last dance with my first and last flame. My first and my last ! but who would believe me If down in this dusty old alley to-day Twixt the talk about cotton, the market and money, I should suddenly turn in some moment aud say That one memory only had left me a lonely, A grey-headed bachelor dreaming of June, Where the nights and the mornings, from the dusks to the dawnings, Seemed to set to the music of Weber'a v?ild tune !