The yellow book: an illustrated quarterly (3.1894)

To Salome at St. ]ames's
By Theodore Wratislaw

LOWER of the ballet's nightly mirth,
Pleased with a trinket or a gown,
Eternal as eternal earth
You dance the centuries down.

For you, my plaything, slight and light,
Capricious, petulant and proud,
With whom I sit and sup to-night
Among the tawdry crowd,

Are she whose swift and sandalled feet
And postured girlish beauty won
A pagan prize, for you unmeet,
The head of Baptist John.

And after ages, when you sit
A princess less in birth than power,
Freed from the theatre's fume and heat
To kill an idle hour,