The Music-Hall

Theodore Wratislaw

THE CURTAIN on the grouping dancers falls,
The heaven of color has vanished from our eyes;
Stirred in our seats we wait with vague surmise
What 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 enthralls.
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!

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