The Potato's Dance

[cbtreks]

"Down cellar," said the cricket,
"I saw a ball last night
In honor of a lady
Whose wings were pearly white.
The breath of bitter weather
Had smashed the cellar pane:
We entertained a drift of leaves
And then of snow and rain.
But we were dressed for winter,
And loved to hear it blow
In honor of the lady
Who makes potatoes grow
Our guest, the Irish lady,
The tiny Irish lady,
The fairy Irish lady
That makes potatoes grow.

"Potatoes were the waiters,
Potatoes were the band,
Potatoes were the dancers
Kicking up the sand:
Their legs were old burnt matches,
Their arms were just the same,
They jigged and whirled and scrambled
In honor of the dame:
The noble Irish lady
Who makes potatoes dance,
The witty Irish lady,
The saucy Irish lady,
The laughing Irish lady
Who makes potatoes prance.

"There was just one sweet potato.
He was golden brown and slim:
The lady loved his figure.
She danced all night with him.
Alas, he wasn't Irish.
So when she flew away,
They threw him in the coal bin
And there he is to day,
Where they cannot hear his sighs
His weeping for the lady,
The beauteous Irish lady,
The radiant Irish lady
Who gives potatoes eyes."

(by Vachel Lindsay)

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Posting early since I have school tonight, then have to pack for my trip.

This poem was in an older edition of the Childcraft Books that my grandparents had and I always loved it. The illos in the book were so cute! I felt sad for the sweet potato, though.