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Exchange their vows and murmur'd madrigal
With lip-devotion from the heart afar,
With words of flame that melt not lips that freeze,
In faded light of yellow afternoon
They drowse their disillusion with a dance,
Subduing sorrow to a saraband,
Attuning madness to the minuet
And passion to the pavane,
(To the dancers.)
While you may,
O silken shepherd of the gilded crook,
And masquerading satin shepherdess
Your single lamb perfum'd with bergamot,
Play your brocaded pastoral! play on
Your comedy of mimic love and hate,
With trivial interlude of muted strings
Or far-off winding of a huntsman's horn.
Soon the long-brooding thunderstorm shall break
