Explore "Three Women" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A dull little station, a man with the eye / Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by; / A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun, / The curtain goes up, and our play is begun. / The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife, / Which always is billed for the theatre Life. / It runs on forever, from year unto year, / With scarcely a change when new actors appear. / It is old as the world is -- far older in truth, / For the world is a crude little planet of youth. / And back in the eras before it was formed, / The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.
Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls / Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls / In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain / Was wholly intent on the incoming train. / That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath, / Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death, / Paused scarcely a moment, and then sped away, / And two actors more now enliven our play.