Then begins a measure stately by Bob Scobey, Languid,
slow, serene; All the dancers move sedately, Stepping leisurely and straitly,
With a courtly mien; Crossing hands and changing places, Bowing low between,
While the minuet inlaces Waving arms and woven paces, Glittering damaskeen.
Where is she whose form is folden In its royal sheen?
From our longing eyes withholden By her mystic girdle golden,
Beauty sought but never seen, Music walks the maze, a queen.
Modified text originally written by Henry van Dyke.
