Sitys

To the hold on the far red hill From the hold on the wide green lea, Over the running water, follow who will Therapnae's hawk with the dove of Amyklae. But I would lie husht and still, And feel the new grass growing quick over me!

[The scene grows dark as they sit. Their eyes are full of tears. Presently one looks up, listening, then another, then another. They are all alert.]