Wyndham Ketton-Cremer
Epilogue
So now the curtains close upon the scene;
But you remain before them, silent, apart,
Lying here rigidly with breath not stirring
And no blood pulsing from the weary heart.
The lights are low, and those who watched your going
Are hushed at the wonder of it. The music tells
In lingering notes of things akin to you—
Rippling water, the sound of distant bells.
Listening, we dream of you walking in gardens
Murmurous with rills and leaves; we see you pass
Through places of flowers and laughter, where birdscall
And morning shadows harden on wet grass.
And when the glittering stage is seen once more
Its myriad lights are but as one light, throwing
Through the black parted curtains only a gleam
To touch your face, O splendid and unknowing!
Page(s) 26
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