The lips of death upon the moon’s dark face, 
So that her silver lustre might rejoice 
The fiery lover, the sharp nightingale, 
And those pale mortals whom the day beholds. 
Asleep, because the many bid them slave 
From dusk to dawn being poor ;  and braided up 
The loose hair of all trees and flowers, and made 
Their one white light divide to red and green 
And violet and the hues innumerable 
Lesser than these, and gave man hope at last 
With the invariable law of death 
Abundant in new life, and having filled 
The world with music, dost demand of us 
“ Is my work meaningless ? ”  O thou, supreme, 
Thou, First and Last, most inconceivable 
All-radiating Unity, thou sphere 
All-comprehensive, all-mysterious, 
Spirit of Life and Death, bow down and hear ! 
[Bends deeper and prays silently.  The 
flame grows duller, and finally leaves 
the room in 
absolute darkness. 
Curtain. 
 
18