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THE CURTAIN on the grouping dancers falls, |
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The heaven of color has vanished from our eyes; |
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Stirred in our seats we wait with vague surmise |
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What haply comes that pleases or that palls. |
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Touched on the stand the thrice-struck baton calls, |
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Once more I watch the unfolding curtain rise, |
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I hear the exultant violins premise |
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The well-known tune that thrills me and enthralls. |
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Then trembling in my joy I see you flash |
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Before the footlights to the cymbals’ clash, |
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With laughing lips, swift feet, and brilliant glance, |
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You, fair as heaven and as a rainbow bright, |
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You, queen of song and empress of the dance, |
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Flower of mine eyes, my love, my heart’s delight! |