CHORUS
  Weave the dance on the floor of the breeze,
  Pierce with song heaven's silent light,
  Enchant the day that too swiftly flees,
  To check its flight ere the cave of night.

  Once the hungry Hours were hounds
  Which chased the day like a bleeding deer,
  And it limped and stumbled with many wounds
  Through the nightly dells of the desert year.

  But now, oh, weave the mystic measure
  Of music, and dance, and shapes of light,
  Let the Hours, and the Spirits of might and pleasure,
  Like the clouds and sunbeams, unite--

A VOICE
  Unite!

PANTHEA
  See, where the Spirits of the human mind,
  Wrapped in sweet sounds, as in bright veils, approach.