One crash shivers the world down to its roots, And then the music moulds anew all things: Strange moons sail in the laughter of the flutes; New suns blaze through the clamour of the strings. OF A LADY I never see her walk into a room But what I think: Ah, now the fiddling’s done; The world’s brave footlights leap to stab the gloom; The curtain lifts, and see--the play’s begun. THE END Typographical error corrected by the etext transcriber: and and went out of the house=> and went out of the house {pg 20} End of Project Gutenberg's Brief Diversions, by J. B. (John Boynton) Priestley