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to charles at eighty When, crowned with laurel as a youth Our Charles bestrode the London stage, He was, despite his tender age, Most eager, beautiful, and couth. Rather a dear— As many maidens gone to rest, Would so attest, if they were here. The stage’s fairest sought for space In his productions—and no wondra! Joan, Edna, Paulette, Annie Ondra, The Pride of England—Boniface!1 He reaped a wilder wind, a vine Of sweeter wine along the way. His step was always light and gay, From infancy to thirty-nine. Those were the golden years, by Gad! They are not easy to forget, For there’s a light of glory yet Around that plump and humming lad— Whom now we welcome to our play That opens on each eightieth year For those we love and hold most dear— And on this marquee, bold and clear, Is “Live Forever and a Day!” A Hopeful Tenet, by Charles Bennett. With Love, Robert Nathan, Author of Portrait of Jenny, Dunkirk, and much more ...

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