He thinks her little feet should pass br Where dandelions star thickly grass; br Her hands should lift in sunlit air br Sea-wind should tangle up her hair. br Green leaves, he says, have never heard br A sweeter ragtime mockingbird, br Nor has the moon-man ever seen, br Or man in the spotlight, leering green, br Such a beguiling, smiling queen. br br Her eyes, he says, are stars at dusk, br Her mouth as sweet as red-rose musk; br And when she dances his young heart swells br With flutes and viols and silver bells; br His brain is dizzy, his senses swim, br When she slants her ragtime eyes at him. . . br br Moonlight shadows, he bids her see, br Move no more silently than she. br It was this way, he says, she came, br Into his cold heart, bearing flame.