Friday, September 26, 2014

A lovely poem inspired by the second Winter Ball in 2008 at the David Cole Mansion.

Ode to a Regency Ball 
by Ruth Haring

Tiny lights twinkle in the frosty night,
Covering turrets and windows with a heavenly light.
Our trailing skirts are lifted to enter the hall,
We’re giddy with excitement – it’s our first regency ball.

Hours and hours have been spent dreaming and planning.
Yards of ribbon and fabric and lace have been spanning.
Our house for weeks now, but finally we’re near,
And our magical night is about to appear.

We’ve curled every hair, tied every cravat,
Laced up the corsets and donned every hat.
We’ve primped and we’ve fussed, checked and rechecked
‘Til we’re all completely and properly bedecked.

Katie is a vision in silky ice blue,
Kristin is regal in a lovely lavender hue,
The gentlemen are looking particularly smashing,
An evening coat and cravat is terribly dashing.

As we entered the mansion, we see a magical sight,
Scores of ladies and gentlemen are packed in tight.
They’re lined up in rows and gaily dancing,
The ladies are gliding, the gentlemen prancing.

Before very long, we've joined in the throng,
Twirling and spinning along with the song.
We’re learning new terms like set, honor and cast,
Dancing to lovely old tunes from the past.

The Duke of Kent’s Waltz and Hole in the Wall,
We’re learning! It’s amazing! Please don’t let me fall!
But everyone is helpful, glad to advise,
And we are so grateful for these words from the wise.

Between some of the sets, we step out in the dark,
To find tables with refreshments under trees in the park.
Their trunks are wrapped in more twinkling lights
And the laughter and music spill into the night.

We've been transported to an earlier time.
When men were more courtly, with manners sublime.
Women wore gowns that made them feel
Like those fairy tale princesses really were real.

Finally tired but happy, we head for the door.
Curls have drooped, and feet are sore.
But the magic has happened – we’ll never forget,

This wonderful ball, nor the friends that we’ve met.

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