They built a house of clouds
With skilled immortal hands.
They entered through the silver doors.
Their wings were wedded brands.
I labored up the valley
To granite mountains free.
You hurried down the river
To Zidon by the sea.
But at their place of meeting
They keep a home and shrine.
Your angel twists a purple flax,
Then weaves a mantle fine.
My angel, her defender
Upstanding, spreads the light
On painted clouds of fancy
And mists that touch the height.
Their sturdy babes speak kindly
And fly and run with joy,
Shepherding the helpless lambs—
A Grecian girl and boy.
These children visit Heaven
Each year and make of worth
All we planned and wrought in youth
And all our tears on earth.
From books our God has written
They sing of high desire.
They turn the leaves in gentleness.
Their wings are folded fire.
Epitaphs for Two Players
I. Edwin Booth
An old actor at the Player's Club told me that Edwin Booth first impersonated Hamlet when a barnstormer in California. There were few theatres, but the hotels were provided with crude assembly rooms for strolling players.