OH, I'd be fretful too as you have been, but for my magic players. I have three who, when the time's most sour, most faithfully come with their lights to give their brief, sweet scene in my dark theatre — with one as queen, governing well the bubble-revelry of her diminutive two subjects; she is the heart of the play, its pillar and heroine. These three are all the cast. And what they play is any fragment from the children's day, gay mostly, sometimes tearful, always small, but bright with the diamond dust of happiness and redolent of its rose. ... They grow no less, those fragrances; those petals do not fall. |