To Isadora, dancing

See the tints of mourning break

Where the deep of night has been, -

Meads, forgotten verdure take,

And from out their lumbers wake

Nymphs, by mortals long unseen.

Fair they dance, their lissom feet

Moving all in melody.

Swift or slow the ground they beat,

Scarce the trembling blossoms meet, -

Care-worn crowds stand still to see

Harps long mute are strung again

(Oh! the winds! the flow'r ! (...)

New old songs are sung again,

All the world grows young again,

Lo, An age of gold begun!

                                                                           Stockholm, 6 May 1906