White, violet, saffron, like another dawn.
...
Before them, through the temple’s fragrant gloom,
The Muses, in their dim half-circle, towered;
And, in the midst, over the smouldering myrrh,
The form of Hestia.
In her mighty shadow,
Pythagoras, with a scroll in his right hand,
Arose and spoke.
“Our work is well-nigh done.