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And wished her thither, till she, answering,
rose, Loth to leave these her friends, yet fain for
those, More distant but more dear, whose lips were
placed Warm on the Bridegroom's, passionately
chaste. I know not; this I know: mine ear shall keep Those great soprano sounds until I sleep; And this I know: her brow, her hair, her
eye, Shall be to me a glory till I die!
Frederic Lawrence Knowles.
The keen stars were twinkling, And the fair moon was rising among them,
Dear Jane. The guitar was tinkling, But the notes were not sweet till you sung them
As the moon's soft splendor
Is thrown, So your voice most tender To the strings without soul had then given
The stars will awaken,
Though the sound overpowers,
Percy Bysshe Shelley.
THE MUSIC - HALL
The curtain on the grouping dancers falls, The heaven of color has vanished from our
eyes; Stirred in our seats we wait with vague surWhat haply comes that pleases or that palls. Touched on the stand the thrice-struck baton
calls, Once more I watch the unfolding curtain rise, I hear the exultant violins premise The well-known tune that thrills me and en
thralls. Then trembling in my joy I see you flash Before the footlights to the cymbals' clash, With laughing lips, swift feet, and brilliant
glance, You, fair as heaven and as a rainbow bright, You, queen of song and empress of the dance, Flower of mine eyes, my love, my heart's delight!
You shall play me, and you please,
Something sweet of Schumann's make,
Then a waltz with gayer graces
Next, to sway my dreaming soul,
Now a fugue of Bach's, a song
A sonata-strain whose grief
Playing thus, the warp of life,
Richard Burton. THE KEYBOARD
Five and thirty black slaves,
Half a hundred white, All their duty but to sing
For their Queen's delight, Now with throats of thunder,
Now with dulcet lips, While she rules them royally
With her finger-tips !
When she quits her palace
All the slaves are dumb Dumb with dolor till the Queen
Back to Court is come: Dumb the throats of thunder.
Dumb the dulcet lips, Lacking all the sovereignty
Of her finger-tips!
Dusky slaves and pallid,
Ebon slaves and white, When the Queen was on her throne
How you sang to-night! Ah, the throats of thunder!
Ah, the dulcet lips !