Flossie CabanisFrom Bindle’s opera house in the villageTo Broadway is a great step.But I tried to take it, my ambition firedWhen sixteen years of age,Seeing “East Lynne,” played here in the villageBy Ralph Barrett, the comingRomantic actor, who enthralled my soul.True, I trailed back home, a broken failure,When Ralph disappeared in New York,Leaving me alone in the city—But life broke him also.In all this place of silenceThere are no kindred spirits.How I wish Duse could stand amid the pathosOf these quiet fieldsAnd read these words.
From Bindle’s opera house in the villageTo Broadway is a great step.But I tried to take it, my ambition firedWhen sixteen years of age,Seeing “East Lynne,” played here in the villageBy Ralph Barrett, the comingRomantic actor, who enthralled my soul.True, I trailed back home, a broken failure,When Ralph disappeared in New York,Leaving me alone in the city—But life broke him also.In all this place of silenceThere are no kindred spirits.How I wish Duse could stand amid the pathosOf these quiet fieldsAnd read these words.