A woman imagines heaven and finds it unappealing. She has “dancing feet” and a body that moves like apple boughs in the wind; in a “perfect place,” dancing would be sin, and no man would love her face or hold her. The angels there seem too proud to bend to the “faery tunes” that fill her heart. So she rejects that cold perfection. Instead, she feels kinship with the fallen angels in hell, who will smile at her and understand her, because they too lost or left that all-perfect place. That final turn gives the poem its edge: hell is not a horror but a warmer, more knowing alternative to a flawless heaven. The mood is defiant and sensual, even a little bittersweet—the speaker would rather keep earthly joy, desire, music, and human touch than trade them for a loveless perfection.
She of the Dancing Feet Sings — Summary
“And what would I do in heaven, pray, Me with my dancing feet, And limbs like apple boughs that sway When the gusty rain winds beat?
And how would I thrive in a perfect place Where dancing would be sin, With not a man to love my face, Nor an arm to hold me in?
The seraphs and the cherubim Would be too proud to bend To sing the faery tunes that brim My heart from end to end.
The wistful angels down in hell Will smile to see my face, And understand, because they fell From that all-perfect place.”