Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/116

Rh Here is the Goddess that shall grant your wish, Our Lady Artemis.

The boy is craz'd Poor child, with over much devotion. I will indulge him.

(Dreamily to himself):

She commun'd with me, Last night in vision that was not a dream. Bending she kissed me, calling me her child, Promising me that I should be with her Before her crescent waxed to full of moon.

(Tenderly):

Ah, gentle Boy, I'll pray a grace of her. I would my dove would wing again to me, My coral-footed snowy-throated dove, Whose ruby eyes would mark my home-coming, Whose croon relieved my labour at the loom.