The speaker looks back on turning down a dance with a woman and brushing it off—there were prettier girls, so it seemed like nothing. Then the poem shifts to a funeral scene: ten girls in white each hold a white rose wreath, forming an arch as ten strong men carry a body through. The same line returns: “Not to dance with her / Was a trivial thing.” After that procession, the word “trivial” feels bitterly ironic. What once seemed like a casual, forgettable choice now sits against the finality of death, and the speaker’s old excuse sounds hollow. The white dresses and roses create a hush, and the repeated line becomes less like a dismissal and more like something the speaker can’t stop repeating—a regret that has grown heavier with time. The mood is quiet, restrained, and quietly haunted.
A Triviality — Summary
Not to dance with her Was such a trivial thing
There were girls more fair than she,--
To-day Ten girls dressed in white. Each had a white rose wreath.
They made a dead man’s arch And ten strong men Carried a body through.
Not to dance with her Was a trivial thing.