The Lady Monologue from The Pierrot of the Minute

From The Pierrot of the Minute by Ernest Dowson

female · romantic · 1:15 min

Take up thy destiny of short delight; I am thy lady for a summer's night, Lift up your viols, maidens of my train, And work such havoc on this mortal's brain That for a moment he may touch and know Immortal things, and be full Pierrot, White music, Nymphs! Violet and Eglantine! To stir his tired veins like magic wine, What visitants across his spirit glance, Lying on lilies, while he watch me dance? Watch, and forget all weary things on earth, All memories and cares, all joy and mirth, While my dance woos him, light and rhythmical, And weaves his heart into my coronal. Music, more music for his soul's delight: Love is his lady for a summer's night.

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