    Then took each other by the hand,
    And danced a stately saraband;
    Their laughter echoed thin and shril
    Sometimes a clockwork puppet pressed
    A phantom lover to her breast,
    Sometimes they seemed to try to sin
    Sometimes a horrible marionette
    Came out, and smoked its cigarette
    Upon the steps like a live thin
    Then, turning to my love, I said,
    'The dead are dancing with the dead,
    The dust is whirling with the dus'