She Of The Dancing Feet Sings

And what would I do in heaven pray,

Me with my dancing feet?

And limbs like apple boughs that

When the gusty rain winds beat.

And how would I thrive in a perfect

Where dancing would be a sin,

With not a man to love my face,

Nor an arm to hold me in?

The seraphs and the

Would be too proud to bend,

To sing the faery tunes that

My heart from end to end.

The wistful angels down in

Will smile to see my face,

And understand, because they

From that all-perfect place.