Be sad, and you lose them all;
There are none to decline
Your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by;
Succeed and give,
And it helps you live,
But it cannot help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train;
But one by one
We must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.


_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._

From "How Salvator Won."




UNSUBDUED


"An artist's career," said Whistler, "always begins to-morrow." So does
the career of any man of courage and imagination. The Eden of such a man