by Robert Graves
“Alice, dear, what ails you,
Dazed and lost and shaken?
Has the chill night numbed you?
Is it fright you have taken?”
“Mother, I am very well,
I was never better.
Mother, do not hold me so,
Let me write my letter.”
“Sweet, my dear, what ails you?”
“No, but I am well.
The night was cold and frosty –
There’s no more to tell.”
“Ay, the night was frosty,
Coldly gaped the moon,
Yet the birds seemed twittering
Through green boughs of June.
“Soft and thick the snow lay,
Stars danced in the sky –
Not all the lambs of May-day
Skip so bold and high.
“Your feet were dancing, Alice,
Seemed to dance on air,
You looked a ghost or angel
In the star-light there.
“Your eyes were frosted star-light;
Your heart, fire and snow.
Who was it said, ‘I love you’?”
“Mother, let me go!”
Poems of the Fantastic and Macabre 