I dance in the eaves of the dove-winged glade

Twirling my steps over the sward

Feeling the soft caressing stalks

Seeing the smooth flowing cascade

Waking the leaves, falling high

Sweet sounds a crescent in the air

Incandescent arias at a crescendo peak

And then

A shrill waft of torching smouldering tall

Overflowing frenzied hysterical yelps

Fiery glints sparking its bothers

As I dance I hear

As I dance I smell

As I dance I see

As I dance I feel

And so for my demise

I dance in the eaves of the dove-winged glade