Blanche Sweet - Moving-picture Actress

(After seeing the reel called "Oil and Water".)



    Beauty has a throne-room
    In our humorous town,
    Spoiling its hob-goblins,
    Laughing shadows down.
    Rank musicians torture
    Ragtime ballads vile,
    But we walk serenely
    Down the odorous aisle.
    We forgive the squalor
    And the boom and squeal
    For the Great Queen flashes
    From the moving reel.

    Just a prim blonde stranger
    In her early day,
    Hiding brilliant weapons,
    Too averse to play,
    Then she burst upon us
    Dancing through the night.
    Oh, her maiden radiance,
    Veils and roses white.
    With new powers, yet cautious,
    Not too smart or skilled,
    That first flash of dancing
    Wrought the thing she willed: -
    Mobs of us made noble
    By her strong desire,
    By her white, uplifting,
    Royal romance-fire.

    Though the tin piano
    Snarls its tango rude,
    Though the chairs are shaky
    And the dramas crude,
    Solemn are her motions,
    Stately are her wiles,
    Filling oafs with wisdom,
    Saving souls with smiles;
    'Mid the restless actors
    She is rich and slow.
    She will stand like marble,
    She will pause and glow,
    Though the film is twitching,
    Keep a peaceful reign,
    Ruler of her passion,
    Ruler of our pain!