A pillow in the room they hide, The door they slily lock; The bold the bashful damsels chide, Whose heart’s-pulse seem to rock: “Escape?”--“Not yet!--no key is found!”-- “Of course, ’tis lost by chance;”-- And flutt’ring whispers breathe around “The Cushion Dance!--The Cushion Dance!” The fiddler in a corner stands, He gives, he rules the game; A rustic takes a maiden’s hands Whose cheek is red with shame: At custom’s shrine they seal their truth, Love fails not here to glance;-- Happy the heart that beats in youth, And dances in the “Cushion Dance!” The pillow’s carried round and round, The fiddler speaks and plays; The choice is made,--the charm is wound, And parleys conquer nays:-- “For shame! I will not thus be kiss’d, Your beard cuts like a lance; Leave off--I’m sure you’ve sprained my wrist By kneeling in this ‘Cushion Dance!’” “’Tis aunt’s turn,--what in tears?--I thought You dearly loved a joke; Kisses are sweeter stol’n than bought, And vows are sometimes broke. Play up!--play up!--aunt chooses Ben; Ben loves so sweet a trance! Robin to Nelly kneels again, --Is Love not in the ‘Cushion dance?’” Laughter is busy at the heart, Cupid looks through the eye, Feeling is dear when sorrows part And plaintive comfort’s nigh, “Hide not in corners, Betsy, pray,” “Do not so colt-like prance; One kiss, for memory’s future day, --Is Life not like a ‘Cushion Dance?’” “This Dance it will no further go!” “Why say you thus, good man?” “Joan Sanderson will not come to!” “She must,--’tis ‘Custom’s’ plan:” “Whether she will or no, must she The proper course advance; Blushes, like blossoms on a tree, Are lovely in the ‘Cushion Dance.’” “This Dance it will no further go!” “Why say you thus, good lady?” “John Sanderson will not come to!” “Fie, John! the Cushion’s ready:” “He must come to, he shall come to, ’Tis Mirth’s right throne pleasance; How dear the scene, in Nature’s view To Lovers in a ‘Cushion Dance!’” “Ho! princum prancum!”--Love is blest, Both Joan and John submit; Friends smiling gather round and rest. And sweethearts closely sit;-- Their feet and spirits languid grown, Eyes, bright in silence, glance Like suns on seeds of beauty sown, And nourish’d in the “Cushion Dance.” In times to come, when older we Have children round our knees; How will our hearts rejoice to see Their lips and eyes at ease. Talk ye of Swiss in valley-streams, Of joyous pairs in France; None of their hopes-delighting dreams Are equal to the “Cushion Dance.”