Behind The Scenes: Empire

The little painted angels flit,

See, down the narrow staircase, where

The pink legs flicker over it!

Blonde, and bewigged, and winged with gold,

The shining creatures of the air

Troop sadly, shivering with cold.

The gusty gaslight shoots a thin

Sharp finger over cheeks and nose

Rouged to the colour of the rose.

All wigs and paint, they hurry in:

Then, bid their radiant moment be

The footlights' immortality!