As yours, lady—we lay

Before your feet and pray:

Of all the blessings—

Youth, joy, ecstasy—

May one gift last

(As the tall gladiolus may

Outlast the wind-flower,

Winter-rose or rose),

One gift above,

Encompassing all those;

For her, for him,

For all within these palace walls,

Beyond the feast,

Beyond the cry of Hymen and the torch,

Beyond the night and music

Echoing through the porch till day.

[8]The music, with its deep chanting notes, dies away. The curtain hangs motionless in rich, full folds. Then from this background of darkness, dignity and solemn repose, a flute gradually detaches itself, becomes clearer and clearer, pipes alone one shrill, simple little melody.

[8]

From the distance, four children's voices blend with the flute, and four very little girls pass singly before the curtain, small maids or attendants of the sixteen matrons. Their hair is short and curls at the back of their heads like 

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