As soon as histories are properly told there is no more need of romances.
Clear and sweet is my soul, clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
Long have you timidly waded Holding a plank by the shore, Now I will you to be a bold swimmer, To jump off in the midst of the sea, Rise again, nod to me, shout, And laughingly dash with your hair.
I say you shall yet find the friend you were looking for.
If you want me again look for me under your boot soles.
Give me such shows - give me the streets of Manhattan!