The Beautiful Seems Right By

This Race Is Never Grateful: From The First, One Fills Their Cup At Supper With Pure Wine, Which Back They Give At Cross-time On A Sponge, In Bitter Vinegar.

Life Treads On Life, And Heart On Heart; We Press Too Close In Church And Mart To Keep A Dream Or Grave Apart.

God Answers Sharp And Sudden On Some Prayers, And Thrusts The Thing We Have Prayed For In Our Face, A Gauntlet With A Gift In It.

Quick-loving Hearts ... May Quickly Loathe.

The Growing Drama Has Outgrown Such Toys Of Simulated Stature, Face, And Speech: It Also Peradventure May Outgrow The Simulation Of The Painted Scene, Boards, Actors, Prompters, Gaslight, And Costume, And Take For A Worthier Stage The Soul Itself, Its Shifting Fancies And Celestial Lights, With All Its Grand Orchestral Silences To Keep The Pauses Of Its Rhythmic Sounds.