Poem 212 – Like a Serpent I Dance

Here only weak
Against the charm of beauty’s powerful glance

Milton, Paradise Lost, Book VIII, 533-534

Like a serpent with a piping fakir I dance for you,
Enslaved on a quarter-tone’s unseen string,
Writhing and twisting, rising left and right,
From out of the basket to the twirling pipe;
Likewise like a madman following St. Vitus’ dance,
Not knowing what strange power drives within,
Maybe else the movement of the rabbit
When the stoat bows to them and then the games begin.
I am merely your puppet, strung up on a string
There only weak against beauty’s powerful glance.

***

Dear readers,

St Vitus’ dance and stoats dancing are both incredibly interesting/strange. I would suggest looking into them. The quote suggests Adam is what we would nowadays call ‘superficial’.

Kind regards,

The Hapless Neo-Romantic

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