Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/135

Rh Pausing a space 'ere she take wing for heaven.

(With a little laugh):

Ion hath hid himself so safe away I cannot find him, he would frighten me Thinking him lost, but well I know at home The first return'd he waits to welcome me.

(Standing over her):

Lay by your body, like a faltering flute That marr'd the fuller music of your song. More fortunate than other mortals, you! Their voice still breaks upon a soaring note, Rapture of triumph, passion of despair. Your sweet life, swooning to a perfect pause Sweeps on a mode serene and gradual To the propos'd inevitable chord Closing the full, completed symphony.