Back to the Bright Lights 



is not to be an essay on a topic 

 purely speculative nor a study in 

 comparative ethnology. We can at 

 least enjoy Puccini's art and Farrar's, 

 and forget international relationships 

 in the presence of the working of 

 elemental passions. 



Under the magic spell of Campanini's 

 wand, great waves of harmony break 

 and roll and die away in the remotest 

 reaches of the farthest galleries; and 

 as the last echoes of a real orchestral 

 triumph are lost somewhere amidst 

 the heights and depths of the lofty 

 walls, I am carried back in spirit to a 

 day in the distant past. You who 

 have never heard the angels singing 

 among the majestic arches of old York 

 Minster, as the thousand-tongued 

 organ floods that vast cathedral's rich 

 interior, have something yet to live 

 for. And if you cannot thus indulge 

 yourself, at least buy William Winter's 

 little book of gems, "Gray Days and 

 Gold," and enjoy a poet's inspiration. 



[i47] 



