Ah, the buxom girls that helped the boys-- The nobler Helens of humbler Troys-- As they stripped the husks with rustling fold From eight-rowed corn as yellow as gold, By the candle-light in pumpkin bowls, And the gleams that showed fantastic holes In the quaint old lantern's tattooed tin, From the hermit glim set up within; By the rarer light in girlish eyes As dark as wells, or as blue as skies. I hear the laugh when the ear is red, I see the blush with the forfeit paid, The cedar cakes with the ancient twist, The cider cup that the girls have kissed. And I see the fiddler through the dusk As he twangs the ghost of "Money Musk!" The boys and girls in a double row Wait face to face till the magic bow Shall whip the tune from the violin, And the merry pulse of the feet begin. In shirt of check, and tallowed hair, The fiddler sits in the bulrush chair Like Moses' basket stranded there On the brink of Father Nile. He feels the fiddle's slender neck, Picks out the note, with thrum and check; And times the tune with nod and beck, And thinks it a weary while. All ready! Now he gives the call, Cries, "_Honor to the ladies_!" All The jolly tides of laughter fall And ebb in a happy smile. "_Begin_." D-o-w-n comes the bow on every string, "_First couple join right hands and swing_!" As light as any blue-bird's wing "_Swing once and a half times round_." Whirls Mary Martin all in blue-- Calico gown and stockings new, And tinted eyes that tell you true, Dance all to the dancing sound. She flits about big Moses Brown, Who holds her hands to keep her down And thinks her hair a golden crown, And his heart turns over once! His cheek with Mary's breath is wet, It gives a second somerset! He means to win the maiden yet, Alas, for the awkward dance! "Your stoga boot has crushed my toe!" "I'd rather dance with one-legged Joe!" "You clumsy fellow!" "_Pass below_!" And the first pair dance apart. Then "_Forward six_!" advance, retreat, Like midges gay in sunbeam street. 'Tis Money Musk by merry feet And the Money Musk by heart! "_Three quarters round your partner swing! Across the set_!" The rafters ring, The girls and boys have taken wing And have brought their roses out! 'Tis "_Forward six_!" with rustic grace, Ah, rarer far than--"_Swing to place_!" Than golden clouds of old point-lace They bring the dance about.