Page:Frogs (Murray 1912).djvu/103

Rh

While left and right, before, behind,

Your fingers wi-i-i-i-ind

The treasures of the labouring loom,

Fruit of the shuttle's minstrel mind,

Where many a songful dolphin trips

To lead the dark-blue-beakèd ships,

And tosses with aërial touch

Temples and race-courses and such.

O bright grape tendril's essence pure,

Wine to sweep care from human lips;

Grant me, O child, one arm-pressúre!"

That foot, you see?

I do.

And he?

Of course I see the foot!

And this is the stuff to trial you bring

And face my songs with the kind of thing

That a man might sing When he dances a fling

To mad Cyrênê's flute!

There, that's your choral stuff! But I've not finished,

I want to show the spirit of his solos!