The Lady.
Yea, thou art one of hers! But, ere this night,
Often I watched my sisters take their flight
Down heaven's stairway of the clustered stars
To gaze on mortals through their lattice bars;
And some in sleep they woo with dreams of bliss
Too shadowy to tell, and some they kiss.
But all to whom they come, my sisters say,
Forthwith forget all joyance of the day,
Forget their laughter and forget their tears,
And dream away with singing all their years—
Moon-lovers always!
[She sighs.]
Pierrot.
Why art sad, sweet Moon?
[Laughs.]
The Lady.
For this, my story, grant me now a boon.
Pierrot.
I am thy servitor.