Arrow-maker, (meditatively and with much expression):
“Thus it is our daughters leave us
Those we love, and those who love us!
Just when they have learned to help us,
Just when we are old and lean upon them,
Comes a youth with flaunting feathers,
With his flute of reeds, a stranger
Wanders piping through the village,
Beckons to the fairest maiden,
And she follows where he leads her,