And if the creature moils and toils
What is it to this song?
This is a song of silver spoils,
Caught swinging along.

Last night I walked the city street,
Wearing a woman's veil.
Then there was laughter; then there were feet;
Then there was silver hail

And harps and shaking silver bells
And flutes within my brain;
I stood beside deep silver wells;
I said, "We rise again!"

Love, let no light moon ever rise
Until my joy has risen!
I could not suffer heaven's surprise,
Finding me in prison!

Mirth, let no mad moon ever sweep
Heaven, nor find my floor
Swept where I have leaped from sleep
And danced before the door!

Light, let no white moon hunt through heaven
Till I am hunting too!
When the silver bow is given
My thoughts are arrows true,

And when she stalks the starry plains
To fill her silver bowl,
I laugh in narrow lamplit lanes,
A silver sallying soul!

Huntress, huntress, hold it high,
Your globe of silver fire,
And I will draw and pierce the sky
And lift a star from the mire!

And if my hand be stained by the dye
Wherein all day it toils,
Still I come home beneath the sky
Bearing silver spoils.

You did not guess me, swinging along?
But if me my toil had tamed,
I could not tell you in a song,
For I should be ashamed!

Crime flourishes throughout the land,
And bids defiance to the law,
And wicked deeds on every hand
O'erwhelm our souls with awe!

I know one hardened criminal
Whose maidenhood with crime begins;
Who, safe behind a prison wall,
Should expiate her sins.

She is a thief whene'er she smiles,
For then she steals my heart from me,
And keeps it with a maiden's wiles,
And never sets it free.

She plunders sighs from humankind,
She pilfers tears I would not weep,
She robs me of my peace of mind,
And she purloins my sleep.

Of lawless ways she stands confessed,
And is a burglar bold whene'er
She finds a weakness in my breast,
And slyly enters there.

A gambler she, whose arts entrance,
Whose victims yield without demur;
Content to play Love's game of chance
And lose their hearts to her.

A graver crime is hers; for, when
Her matchless beauty I admire,
Of arson she is guilty then,
And sets my heart on fire.

A bandit, preying on mankind,
Her captives by the score increase;
No hand can e'er their chains unbind,
No ransom bring release.

She is a cruel murderess
Whene'er her eyes send forth a dart,
And as she holds me in duress
It stabs me to the heart.

Crime flourishes throughout the land,
And bids defiance to the law,
And wicked deeds on every hand
O'erwhelm our souls with awe!