to be performed by the Chorus rightside, left side, and both sides ; dexter, sinister, et unitus
O Muse, O whence to start this thund'rous hist'ry,
And tell such tales, those born of mystery.
O whence to start and whence for us to cease,
For who can really know of time's caprice,
And who is fit to judge the time themselves,
Whence be it best to throw the line ourselves.
If so then cast the line us friends, and see,
By chance what comedy or tragedy,
Should tow the line of our intriguing minds,
And gage what secrets we may find.
But should our catch prove far from pulchritude,
And if our acts a failure must conclude,
Then must we bend the knee to Muse's fames,
Which of all arts the genesis doth claim.
Thus if the stars show nought but hollow doubt,
Thence all desires in prosody are rout'd,
And to another port our fishing lend,
Whence to a greater school we might contend,
A school where we might easier compose,
Some notes of song or words of prose.
Whate'er should be our honest fate in rhyme,
Just give to us a fraction of your time,
And see what catches we might trawl tonight,
In deep, blue seas of mind's abyssal sight.
Without regret let us some seedlings grow,
Here in your mind a seed can start meadows,
Of lush, green thought, and longing fields of Or,
And here, this Eden can your mind explore,
This Eden built of new ideals worth more
Than any teacher could implore.