Not far from where the Graces danced
I fiddled with delight
The music reignited
With not a cloud in sight

Their spell slipped from my fingers
Farewell to Graces three
I labored and I reminisced
Whereto did wonder flee?

But string song’s lure was lasting
Through spring, summer, and fall
My fiddle found the west wind
And Graces standing tall

No longer do they spin and whirl
They bear the water vase
Their dance, my song remembered
With joy upon their face.

by Dorothea Barth

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