Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice, stole in and out, As if they feared the light; But oh, she dances such a way! No sun upon an Easter-day Is half so fine a sight.

These lines come from Sir John Suckling’s Cavalier-era lyric “A Ballad upon a Wedding,” a witty, observant poem describing the festivities and social comedy of an aristocratic wedding celebration in Caroline England (early 17th century). Suckling, a courtier-poet associated with the circle around Charles I, often wrote in a light, conversational style that mixes compliment with playful irony. Here the speaker watches the bride (or a young woman at the wedding) dancing, focusing on the fleeting glimpse of her feet beneath her petticoat—an image that would have carried a charge of modesty and flirtation in a culture where women’s legs and feet were typically concealed in public.

The passage delights in the tension between concealment and revelation. The simile of “little mice” suggests quick, shy, darting movement—feet that appear and vanish under the petticoat as though afraid of exposure. Yet the speaker’s exclamation (“But oh, she dances such a way!”) turns that modesty into a spectacle of grace: the very partial concealment heightens the charm of what is seen. The comparison to “No sun upon an Easter-day” elevates the moment into a kind of secular radiance, borrowing the language of religious festivity and springtime renewal to praise the dancer’s beauty and the joyous atmosphere of the wedding.