They danced beneath the stars, a crazy rout

With antic steps that had some little grace;

And one leapt high with song and frenzied shout,

And one ran silent with a gleaming face.

They danced until the shy moon looking down

Deemed herself lost above some Grecian glade;

A mile away the trim New England town

Echoed the Bacchanalian din they made.

And still they danced, until the moon sank low,

Blushing a little, and night's diadem

Of stars grew pale before the eastern glow....

And with the dawn their keepers came for them.