Note 11 — Chapter VII
Reading edition
Not long ago, being asked to write a sonnet for the Shakespeare Tercentenary I embodied my impression gathered on this occasion at Stratford in the following:
“A Tercentenary Sonnet
“Shakespeare, what wisdom shall truth tell of thee,
More than fame speaks? The world thy playhouse is
Packed floor to roof to-night with votaries
Shouting thy author’s name vociferously.
They call thee to the curtain front. Ah me,
Hast thou no word for our sublimities,
No cryptogram of grace to crown our bliss?
Nay speak out all, thou man of mystery.
Tell us the truth.—I seem to hear a voice
From far-off Stratford, pestered at the call,
The voice of a hale man of middle age,
Civic, respected: ‘Who are these lewd boys
Would call me back to their fool’s festival?
Truce to all mummings. I have left the stage.’”
25 February, 1916.