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!