SARAH BERNHARDT.

Evening Star, Issue 15074, 4 January 1913, Page 12

SARAH BERNHARDT.

A myriad-rr.eoded child of France, That still canst half the earth entrance! Now panther stealing on its prey, Now waking lark in breaking day, Now tigr€63 crouching in her lair, Then dove afloat on summer air. Enchantress of the voice of gold That does the raptured playhouse hold. Now hoarse in fury pour the words, Anon the language of the birds. Now sea of tempest in the trees, Then murmuring of noontide bees. I see the wasting hollow-eyed The bright Hippolutus beside. I see them down the stairway creep, With fumbling hands and sleepless eleep. I see thee mid camelias fade, Mortal renunciation made. I see thee as La Tosca dart The hidden knife into the heart. Millions of shadows on thee tend, Fierce shapes arise in thee and rend. Thou room re-echoing with cries And with the wail that never dies, And immortality of sighs. Temple which classic phantoms tread, Thou resurrection of the dead ! , Here we salute thee from a shore From France divided now no more ; No longer sundered by the brine, But lightly, strongly bound to thine. —Stephen Phillips, in the 'Westminster Gazette.