a soldier
Plumed and spurred,
And valiant lads
Arise at his word,
Flaying the sober
Thoughts he hates,
Driving them back
From the dream-town gates.
How can the languorous
Dancers know
The red dreams come
# To be read or chanted slowly and softly
in the manner of lustful insinuating music. #
When the good dreams go?
"'Tis the
NIGHT
Of love,"
Call the silver joy-bells,
"NIGHT
Of love,"
Call the silver joy-bells.
"Honey and wine,
Honey and wine.
Sing low, now, violins,
Sing, sing low,
Blow gently, wood-wind,
Mellow and slow.
Like midnight poppies
The sweethearts bloom.
Their eyes flash power,
Their lips are dumb.
Faster and faster
Their pulses come,
Though softer now
The drum-beats fall.
Honey and wine,
Honey and wine.
'Tis the firemen's ball,
'Tis the firemen's ball.

# With a climax of whispered mourning. #
"I am slain,"
Cries true-love
There in the shadow.
"And I die,"
Cries true-love,
There laid low.
"When the fire-dreams come,
The wise dreams go."
# Suddenly interrupting. To be read or sung in
a heavy bass. First eight lines as harsh as possible.
Then gradually musical and sonorous. #
BUT HIS CRY IS DROWNED
BY THE PROUD BAND-MASTER.
And now great gongs whang,
Sharper, faster,
And kettledrums rattle
And hide the shame
With a swish and a swirk
In dead love's name.
Red and crimson
And scarlet and rose
Magical poppies
The sweethearts bloom.
The scarlet stays
When the rose-flush goes,
And love lies low
In a marble tomb.
"'Tis the
NIGHT
Of doom,"
Call the ding-dong doom-bells.
"NIGHT
Of Doom,"
Call the ding-dong doom-bells.
# Sharply interrupting in a very high key. #
Hark how the piccolos still make cheer.
"'Tis a moonlight night in the spring of the year."
# Heavy bass. #
CLANGARANGA, CLANGARANGA,
CLANG... CLANG... CLANG.
CLANG... A... RANGA...
CLANG... A... RANGA...
CLANG... CLANG... CLANG...
LISTEN... TO... THE... MUSIC...
OF... THE... FIREMEN'S BALL...
LISTEN... TO... THE... MUSIC...
OF... THE... FIREMEN'S... BALL....

Section Three