Highland Girls
T Tom Billsborough
0
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Deep in the pinewoods, the girls perform dances,
Echoing the sounds of water over stones
And the sound of wind through the branches.
This is no white band of water nymphs, nor fauns
Of Diana, which the woodlands worship,
But country girls from Cuenca, honouring that fell
At whose foot two rivers kiss, their moist lips
Kissing also the pale soles of the girls' feet
As they weave their happy dances and meet,
Clasping white hands together in friendship,
Perhaps fearing that dancing apart might defeat it.
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