 | [Poems by Lathrop in] Occasional addresses |  |
124
AN ADDRESS.
May 31, 1886.
Better than regal pomp and pride
The power that moves to tears or laughter;
The art whose memories sweet abide
And make life rich forever after.
The power that moves to tears or laughter;
The art whose memories sweet abide
And make life rich forever after.
Better than art, the soul whose plan
Makes brotherhood the foremost factor:
A man is all the more a man
Who figures as a sterling actor.
Makes brotherhood the foremost factor:
A man is all the more a man
Who figures as a sterling actor.
And so the true man on the boards,
Whate'er he feigns of smiles or sorrow,
Lends to the public from his hoards
More sympathy than he can borrow.
Whate'er he feigns of smiles or sorrow,
Lends to the public from his hoards
More sympathy than he can borrow.
Such is the friend we greet to-night:
Complete in skill—his humor blending
With honesty time wears more bright,
And geniality unending.
Complete in skill—his humor blending
With honesty time wears more bright,
And geniality unending.
125
There have been Edwards crowned as kings;
And Harrys, too; but if you tarry,
You'll see this man whose good name rings
With fame of Edwards and of Harry.
And Harrys, too; but if you tarry,
You'll see this man whose good name rings
With fame of Edwards and of Harry.
Why should I lengthen out my lay?
I see you 're bent upon a moral.
Agreed! But all I have to say
Is, crown him with your fairest laurel!
I see you 're bent upon a moral.
Agreed! But all I have to say
Is, crown him with your fairest laurel!
137
PROLOGUE TO THE WIFE.
April 7, 1890.
Here on the bank side of the Thames we meet,
As on the Bankside Shakspeare used to greet
Old London's audience. But our London 's New,
And this bright theater we owe to you.
Long is the path from those far English times
When the great drama rang its morning-chimes:
Blackfrairs, the Globe, the Rose, the Swan, the Curtain—
Long since, all vanished. Yet who doubts 't is certain
That, while man breathes, new theaters will rise,
And echo with new words 'neath New World skies?
As on the Bankside Shakspeare used to greet
Old London's audience. But our London 's New,
And this bright theater we owe to you.
Long is the path from those far English times
When the great drama rang its morning-chimes:
Blackfrairs, the Globe, the Rose, the Swan, the Curtain—
Long since, all vanished. Yet who doubts 't is certain
That, while man breathes, new theaters will rise,
And echo with new words 'neath New World skies?
Good friends, who come to us from work or home
To spend with us an evening, as we roam,—
You bring us life, we give you life again:
Love, laughter, sorrow, starry pleasure, pain;
The blended hopes and motives; all the gain
Of noble conduct, and the triumph glorious
Wherewith true hearts may crown our days victorious.
Your eager living we in earnest play,
And try to show the laws your lives obey.
So, when we leave you, may our mimic scening
Leave with you some fair thought of life's true meaning.
Then shall we be content. And may this place
Long be the haunt of music, mirth, of grace,
And worthy actors' art! Thus, when each year
Rounds out its term, the plays enacted here
Shall form a memory as of seasons mellow
Still closer linking fellow-man to fellow.
And when life's curtain on us all descends,
As we have met, so may we part—good friends!
To spend with us an evening, as we roam,—
You bring us life, we give you life again:
Love, laughter, sorrow, starry pleasure, pain;
The blended hopes and motives; all the gain
Of noble conduct, and the triumph glorious
Wherewith true hearts may crown our days victorious.
Your eager living we in earnest play,
And try to show the laws your lives obey.
138
Leave with you some fair thought of life's true meaning.
Then shall we be content. And may this place
Long be the haunt of music, mirth, of grace,
And worthy actors' art! Thus, when each year
Rounds out its term, the plays enacted here
Shall form a memory as of seasons mellow
Still closer linking fellow-man to fellow.
And when life's curtain on us all descends,
As we have met, so may we part—good friends!
| [Poems by Lathrop in] Occasional addresses | |