120 
AMBERGRIS 
 
 
 
 
 
FROM RODIN IN RIME 
 
Acrobates 
 
My little lady light o’ limb 
Twirls on her lover’s twisting toes. 
Lithe as a lynx, red as a rose, 
She spins aloft and laughs at him. 
So gay the pose, so quaint the whim, 
One stares and stares :  it grows and grows. 
 
So swift the air she seems to skim 
One’s senses dazzle ;  wonder glows 
Warm in one’s veins like love—who knows ? 
One follows till one’s eyes are dim 
My little lady light o’ limb.