L'Indifférent

He dances on a toe
As light as Mercury's:
Sweet herald, give thy message! No,
He dances on; the world is his,
The sunshine and his wingy hat;
His eyes are round
Beneath the brim:
To merely dance where he is found
Is fate to him
And he was born for that.

He dances in a cloak
Of vermeil and of blue:

Gay youngster, underneath the oak,
Come, laugh and love! In vain we woo;
He is a human butterfly; —
No soul, no kiss,
No glance nor joy!
Though old enough for manhood's bliss,
He is a boy.
Who dances and must die.