food.for.the.mind

Countee Cullen "The Dance of Love" All night we danced upon our windy hill Your dress a cloud of tangled midnight hair, And love was much too much for me to wear My leaves; the killer roared above his kill, But you danced on, and when some star would spill Its red and white upon you whirling there, I sensed a hidden beauty in the air; Though you danced on, my heart and I stood still.