Collected Poetry by Andrew Barton Paterson

The actor struts his little hour, Between the limelight and the band; The public feel the actor's power, Yet nothing do they understand Of all the touches here and there That make or mar the actor's part, They never see, beneath the glare, The artist striving after art.

To them it seems a labour slight Where nought of study intervenes; You see it in another light When once you've been behind the scenes.