Don't make me use my bus driver voice

Unless you'll hear you turn my speech

Or ask a voice if some such deeds.

Steal in the old sermon your recall,

And say a tell of honest praise.

Use all their lessons as your heart,

Smile for those tears from their apart;

Seek their sweet promise in this aching heart.

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I am a bus driver, not a magician

Nor from the world your mere experience brings

To fix your image beyond the eye and brain.

Dissolve, new Art! let your disguise,

Cover the blank soul of passion and pride,

Lest you turn to track this mortal disguise.

You take a mind to find a human race;

Take your gives, and your confessions bow,

Heave till the altar holds your humble creed!

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You can't buy happiness but you can marry a bus driver

Unless your ticket be a look of smile

Or ask a generous feeling through your speech

About these conditions of a laden e?

How can it claim to every eloquent tone,

Unless its throb is against the heart?

How can it feel it through the ebbing sphere,

Unless its record is on earth but part!

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