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Arthur Symons - The Armenian Dancer
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O Secret and sharp sting 
That ends and makes delight, 
Come, my limbs call thee, smite 
To music every string 
Of my limbs quivering. 

I strain, and follow on 
After a joy in flight, 
That flies, and is delight 
Only when it is gone, 
Not to be looked upon. 

I strain, and would embrace 
With ardours infinite 
Some angel of delight 
That turns his heavenly face 
Ever into void space. 

I dance, and as I dance 
Desires as fires burn white 
To fan the flame delight; 
What vague desires advance 
With covered countenance? 

I dance, and shall not tire 
Though music in my sight 
Faint before my delight, 
And song like a thin fire 
Fail before my desire.

The sense within me turns 
In labyrinths as of light. 
Not dying into delight; 
As a flame quickening burns, 
Speed in my body yearns. 

I Stop, a quivering 
Wraps me and folds me tight; 
I shudder, and touch delight, 
The secret and sharp sting, 
Suddenly, a grave thing.
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