XXVII

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XXVII

Alas! life’s hours which swiftly fly

I’ve wasted in amusements vain,

But were it not immoral I

Should dearly like a dance again.

I love its furious delight,

The crowd and merriment and light,

The ladies, their fantastic dress,

Also their feet⁠—yet ne’ertheless

Scarcely in Russia can ye find

Three pairs of handsome female feet;

Ah! I still struggle to forget

A pair; though desolate my mind,

Their memory lingers still and seems

To agitate me in my dreams.