We'll dance together at Prospero's masque,
Gliding and wheeling
As if you were a great red bird.
And the wind in the wych-elm
Will wail and moan.
Oh Bella, give me your hand.
Oh Bella, let's go home.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
There's a story behind this poem. Not a very happy one.
