A woman sits at an upright piano reading sheet music and playing the piano with her
                        right hand. Her dress drapes onto the
                        ground. Beside her, papers sit atop a chair which is covered in furs and fabrics.
                        An additional fur lies on the ground. A vase
                        containing peacock feathers sits on the piano. The walls are decorated with a picture
                        frame, a portrait, and a mirrored sconce.
                        Full-page illustration.
                     
                     
                     

Behind the left half of the poem’s lead letter “G”, A framed relief sculpture shows
                           a shirtless man riding a galloping
                           horse. There are two other horses alongside them. A branch with leaves and fruits
                           descends the back side of the sculpture and
                           down the left side of the page.
                        
                        
                        Greek Atalanta !  girdled high ;1
                        
                        Gold-sandalled ;  great, majestic Maid ;2
                        
                        Her hair bound back with purple tie ;3
                        
                        And in her hand th’ Arcadian blade,4
                        
                        To doom the suitor who shall choose5
                        
                        Challenge her to the race—and lose.6
                        And at her side, Hippomenes !7
                        
                        Poised on his foremost foot ;  with soul8
                        
                        Burning to win—if Pallas please—9
                        
                        That course so perilous, whose goal10
                        
                        Is joy, or Death !  Apples of gold11
                        
                        His trembling fingers close enfold.12
                        Oh, girls !  ’tis English as ’tis Greek !13
                        
                        Life is that race !  Train so the soul14
                        
                        That, clad with health and strength, it seek15
                        
                        A swifter still, who touches goal16
                        
                        First ;  or—for lack of breath outdone—17
                        
                        Dies gladly, so such race was run !18
                        Yet scorn not, if, before your feet,19
                        
                        The golden fruit of Life shall roll,20
                        
                        Truth, duty, loving service sweet,21
                        
                        To stoop to grasp them !  So, the soul22
                        
                        Runs slower in the race, by these ;23
                        
                        But wins them—and Hippomenes !24
                        Facsimile of Edwin Arnold’s signature. 1/16 page.