Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/172

Rh The bronze cast fair to the heart's desire, The sweet song fashion'd of tears and fire No languid string and no jarring wire, Where no hands tire, no voices break!

Thank you, sweet Lady, for your silver song. We at the noon of this sweet Summer's day Told of our aspirations and desires, And you have wound them in a melody And show'd us there the Beauty that we crav'd And fairer than we deem'd it.

So young sir, Men still love Beauty?

Ease and wealth and power Men for the most part follow, but a few,