The Photo-Play Journal (Jul 1919-Feb 1921)

May, i o 2 o 31 "Love Springs Eternal in the Human Breast" But Lovers of "Romance" Wax Enthusiastic in Poetry Doris Keane, who makes her screen bow to the public in the greatest of all emotional love stories has been literally swamped with the lyrics of love and romance because of her wonderful interpretation of this production. "Sveet ladies — gentlemans — dear-r peoples who 'ave been so gooood to me. I do not know you-r names an' faces — I cannot follow you into your-r 'oraes — I can jos' seeng a leetle — an' pr-r-ay de saints dat somet'ing in my song vill spik to you an' say ■ "I lo-ove you ! You are all I 'ave to lo-ove in dis beeg vor-r-rld. Mebbe you don' on'erstan' jos' what dat mean — you who 'ave 'usban's, vives an' leetle child-ren, too ! "Ah, veil ! I vould not like it dat you should ! I on'lee tell you so you feel like doing for-r me vone las' gr-r-reat kin'ness "To-mor-r-row I go far-r avay. Mebbe sometime I seeng for-r you again — an' mebbe not. Who knows? But if t'rough all your-r 'app-ee 'appee lives you carr-ee, vay down deep, vone leetle t'ought of me — vone golden mem-o-ree of my song — wher-e-ever I am, dear-r f rien's, oh ! I vill know it an be gla-ad ! "In my countr-ee ve 'ave a leetle — what you say? — t'ing ve tell each oder vhen ve say 'addio' — 'Che le rose floriscano nei vostri cuori fin ch'io ritorno a coglierle.' "■ — "Romance" Act III, by Edward Sheldon. THOSE are the words of farewell and thanks that Doris Keane speaks in the mute language of the screen at the close of her wonderfully dramatic operatic scene in the character of "Cavallini" in her initial photoplay, "Romance" which has been known for years as the greatest of all emotional love stories. She bows her way out of the picture and she "passes on" for "tomorrow I may be far away." Her screen production will be presented to the lovers of amusement through the United Artists Corporation, known as "The Big Four," through the efforts of Hiram Abrams, who has been responsible for the success of that organization. Her thrill of love, her mode of repose, her ability to guard the precious things of love, have been responsible for hundreds of love songs, lyrics and verses being written to Miss Keane, "Cavallini" and to "Romance." Many of them came to her from English boys in the trenches, while the great war was on, and it was Miss Keane's pleasure, during her stay in London, to have many of them collected into a book and sold them on the streets for the "Boys," and which Photoplay Journal has the privilege of offering to the American readers for the first time. Before we give you the verses written to her, we will tell you that Miss Keane is a person of slight details, almost frail in body, although her carriage in walking suggests considerable reserve power. Her face is one of curious contrasts. Pretty dark hair and eyes set off a countenance that at times gives the impression of an attractive girl and at other times of a matured woman of settled convictions. A kindly mouth seems warring for the final impression her face should give with a chin that is well-nigh masculine in its strength. There is vivacity that animates her in conversation, and a certain piquant arch to her eyebrows which stand in forceful contrast to her face as you see it in profile, when it appears thoughtful and reserved. She is full of quick, sudden sympathies for people and ideas. In all she is. strongly interesting. For seven years she has been the embodiment of romance itself in her production, three years in America and four years in England. Now she brings her wonderful story to the screen, on which so many hundreds of people have waxed enthusiastic in poetry. We present herewith for the first time Miss Keane's own choice of the loveliest of the verses written to her. TO MME. CAVALLINI IN "ROMANCE" And so we found you — Through the darkened streets Where men were calling out the news of war ; Through Prologue faintly lit with shallow love ; Through the dim life that we had known before. Your genius blazed, above a world grown pale By contrast with the wonder of your art — All in your presence was pretence save you — The audience puppets playing a dull part. You only were alive and giving life, Through passion and through love tempestuous. You have brought breath where all was dead before, You have become a part of each of us. What have you done to change me through and through ? You are Romance, and I have drunk of you. Anon. TO ROMANCE Romance ! The word will ever in my brain Conjure a certain memory of grief With vivid pleasure mix't ; to make belief That thou wert make-believe I could not strain My erring will to do : th' entrancing chain Of thy magnetic self held fast the chief Of my keen fancies; Time was all too brief. Yet seeing thee mourn, e'en in pretence, was pain ; Thine unseen tears dropped on my very heart ; Thy sad smile made me sad : — but when with Love Thy soul shone in thine eyes, and joy did move The whole perfection of thy being in Art, I felt thy gift had come from Heav'n above, I hailed a genius who had played a part. TO DORIS OF "ROMANCE" Held by your unaffected charm, in a land of sweet romance — -we sit enthralled. From joy to sadness swayed — your magic voice our guide. Each soul-filled utterance, each gesture graceful, like golden memories recalled, Makes life seem beautiful, and strengthens souls untried. Bright as the calcium lights, and brighter — your glorious smile prevails : Completes the heart's surrender — quickens its beat perchance. While pathos of your bidding, to bring tear-drops never fails, Then banishes, at your command — sweet Doris of Romance. Le R. C. FROM THE TRENCHES Because, when long ago I heard your glorious voice Whose tender, tragic accents thrilled my being through ; When I was tired, disheart'ned, all alone, You gave me joy, before, I ne'er had known. Because once more I hoped, I sing this song to you. Oft, 'midst the darkness of the ghastly night, in France, In trench and dug-out ; when in sound of cannon's roar, I've heard your spirit-voice, triumphant, sweet Urging, inspiring victory complete. My heart has taken courage from it o'er and o'er. And so to-night, in fancy, when I see you in your play, Those memories of old come crowding fast and strong — When back from death you brought my soul to live. Because I've nothing else that I can give, Please take my gratitude, accept my little song. Anon.