Her prudish foot, seen rarely as a nun,
Is steep and narrow, flexible as steel,
Touching her pathway but at toe and heel,
Light, restless, eager at a hint to run.
No Arab beauty in her native sun
Tans such a foot; so joyous, quick to feel
The dancing spirit which her eyes reveal;
A thing she rather floats than treads upon.
This foot is vassal to her changing mood;
It lags with sorrow, twinkles o'er the green
To keep our trysting, flies to deeds of good.
What heavenly patience in its rest is seen!
What haughty pride, when like an angry queen
She sweeps, imperial in her womanhood!