Oh, it's great!
MAID (excitedly)
Well, well, what is it? Wherefore make me wait?
CUPID (tapping his brow, thoughtfully)
How is it those lines run--oh, now I know;
You make a stately entrance--measured--slow--
To stirring music, then you kneel and say
Something about--to honour and obey -
For better and for worse--till death do part.
MAID (angrily)
Be still, you foolish boy; that is not ART.
CUPID (seriously)
She needs great skill who takes the role of wife
In God's stupendous drama human life.
MAID (suddenly becoming serious)
So I once thought! Oh, once my very soul
Was filled and thrilled with dreaming of that role.
Life seemed so wonderful; it held for me
No purpose, no ambition, but to be
Loving and loved. My highest thought of fame
Was some day bearing my dear lover's name.
Alone, I ofttimes uttered it aloud,
Or wrote it down, half timid, and all proud
To see myself lost utterly in him:
As some small star might joy in growing dim
When sinking in the sun; or as the dew,
Forgetting the brief little life it knew
In space, might on the ocean's bosom fall
And ask for nothing--only to give all.
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