I have seen ballets Hard-legged women
Hopping on stiffly distorted ugly foot-pegs;
Spinning like toy tops; whirling senseless petticoats,
Short and conventional, graceless as powder-puffs,
With the hard legs thrusting forth from the center.

I have seen Isadora I have seen dancing
She, loving, motherly, utterly gracious,
Grave in her suave folded robes; and around her
Blossomed the maidens, budded the children
Lovely young maids with their light limbs leaping,
Arms tossing wide in the grace of young gladness,
Joy in their movement, joy in their faces.

I have seen dancing; soft-footed music;
Free naked feet, with each step a caressing,
White knees uplifting, white arms outwaving,
Fair growing maids and the fairy wee children,
Light as the flowers are, light as the snow-flake
Leaping as the heart leaps—Springtime! Morning!

All blossom free from the heart of Isadora,
Mother of music, of melody in motion;
She, recreator of long-vanished wonder,
Mother of happiness! Mother of beauty!