How healthily their feet upon the floor Strike down! These are no spirits, but a band Of children, surely, leaping hand in hand Into the air in groups of three and four, Wearing their silken rags as if they wore Leaves only and light gra**es, or a strand Of black elusive seaweed oozing sand, And running hard as if along a shore. I know how lost forever, and at length How still these lovely tossing limbs shall lie, And the bright laughter and the panting breath; And yet, before such beauty and such strength, Once more, as always when the dance is high, I am rebuked that I believe in d**h.