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The Harlem Dancer

Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes
And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes
Blown by black players upon a picnic day.
She sang and danced on gracefully and calm,
The light gauze hanging loose about her form;
To me she seemed a proudly-swaying palm
Grown lovelier for passing through a storm.
Upon her swarthy neck black shiny curls
Luxuriant fell; and tossing coins in praise,
The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,
Devoured her shape with eager, passionate gaze;
But looking at her falsely-smiling face,
I knew her self was not in that strange place.

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Comments


  • rufina caraid Moderators member
    July 10, 2005
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    Deep thoughts and emotions I feel are here in every line and phrase. The crowd are mesmerized by the spectacle but I feel that the Dancer is elsewhere, working on remote and perhaps dreaming of a far-off place to get her through the ordeal - as that is what the dance appears to be to her.
    But looking at her falsely-smiling face,
    I knew her self was not in that strange place.


    Von

  • suigeneris
    July 10, 2005
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    this confused me a little, but I like it's style.

  • philophant
    December 18, 2003
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    I wonder when this poem had been written. The English Sonnet is just right for this. Everything is concluded in the last two lines.