The Looking-Glass by W.B. Yeats — Read

I have just been talking to a girl with a shrill monotonous voice and an / abrupt way of moving. She is fresh from school where they have taught / her history and geography 'whereby a soul can be discerned,' but what is / the value of an education, or even in the long run of a science, that / does not begin with the personality, the habitual self, and illustrate / all by that? Somebody should have taught her to speak for the most part / on whatever note of her voice is most musical, and soften those harsh / notes by speaking, not singing, to some stringed instrument, taking note / after note and, as it were, caressing her words a little as if she loved / the sound of them, and have taught her after this some beautiful / pantomimic dance, till it had grown a habit to live for eye and ear. A / wise theatre might make a training in strong and beautiful life the / fashion, teaching before all else the heroic discipline of the / looking-glass, for is not beauty, even as lasting love, one of the most / difficult of the arts?