Content
The sadness of the incomplete--the sadness that is often Life, but should never be Art--throbbed in its disjected phrases, and made the nerves of the audience throb.
One could easily picture the gorgeous foliage of the luxuriant Martian vegetation which once filled this scene with life and color; the graceful figures of the beautiful women, the straight and handsome men; the happy frolicking children--all sunlight, happiness and peace.
The verses told only of the night and the balmy breeze and the maiden lustre of the moon.
I pretend I am a princess, so that I can try and behave like one."
