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Prologue

 

Female Chorus

 

The moon rose full: the women stood 

As though within a sacred wood 

Around an altar—thus with awe 

The perfect, virgin orb they saw 

Supreme above them ; and its light 

Fell on their limbs and garments white. 

Then with pale, lifted brows they stirred 

Their fearful steps at Sappho's word

From 'Long Ago' (1889) by Michael Field

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