The work of
no ordinary builder!
BISHOP [trumpet down]. On the security of one man's name!
MANSON. The pillars of it go up like the brawny trunks of heroes:
the sweet human flesh of men and women is moulded about its
bulwarks, strong, impregnable: the faces of little children laugh
out from every corner-stone: the terrible spans and arches of it
are the joined hands of comrades; and up in the heights and spaces
there are inscribed the numberless musings of all the dreamers of
the world. It is yet building--building and built upon. Sometimes
the work goes forward in deep darkness: sometimes in blinding
light: now beneath the burden of unutterable anguish: now to the
tune of a great laughter and heroic shoutings like the cry of
thunder. [Softer.] Sometimes, in the silence of the night-time,
one may hear the tiny hammerings of the comrades at work up in the
dome--the comrades that have climbed ahead.
[There is a short silence, broken only by the champing jaws of the
BISHOP, who has resumed his sausages. ROBERT speaks first.
Pages:
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62