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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=348605" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>At the Foresters</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=348605" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The shadows of the gaslit wings<br>Come softly crawling down our way;<br>Before the curtain someone sings,<br>The music sounds from far away;<br>I lounge beside you in the wings.<br> <br>Prying and indiscreet, the lights<br>Illumine, if you haply move,<br>The prince's dress, the yellow tights,<br>That fit your figure like a glove:<br>You shrink a little from the lights.<br> <br>Divinely rosy rouged, your face<br>Smiles, with its painted little mouth,<br>Half tearfully, a quaint grimace;<br>The charm and pathos of your youth<br>Mock the mock roses of your face.<br> <br>And there is something in your look<br>(Ambiguous, independent Flo!)<br>As teasing as a half-shut book;<br>It lures me till I long to know<br>The many meanings of your look:<br> <br>The tired defiance of the eyes,<br>Pathetically whimsical,<br>Childish and whimsical and wise;<br>And now, relenting after all,<br>The softer welcome of your eyes.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Arthur+Symons">Arthur Symons</a></strong></div>

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