The Dance Of Life Poem by Harry St Vincent Beechey

When I was born so I was told
My mother danced to the sound of the polka
A 19th century dance in double time
Two beats to the bar was my birthing rhyme
I arrived on cue and cried in time
And of this dance no one could fault her
When I was a babe Father's hand in mine
I twirled and danced to the ballet
A fine Russian dance with a story to tell
I took first steps and I danced them well
Madame called the tune and my Father fell
Then left Mother to dance in Calais
When I was small I was reared and fed
By both symphony and sonata
Scarlatti and Haydn are with me yet
I feel the rhythmic grace of the minuet
Mother felt it too but could not forget
So with God began to barter
When I grew up now dancing free
I fell in love with a boy from Eire
He taught me the steps from River dance
My feet were bruised my life enhanced
Father came home sick from life in France
Mother practiced the dance of care
When I came of age and married Gerhardt
We danced around Vienna
I loved all the music of Johann Strauss
My favourite waltz Die Fledermaus
Mother sang to Roses from the south,
And my Father we thought was better

H.St.V.Beechey