To Carol Macloud to her 75th birthday

Faint heart never made the girl who strands before
Us now. Nor did she ever balk at fame's harsh
Clarion call. Her voice was ever sweet and clear
Rounded and attuned to spoken words.

Her magic was a presence neatly called
Into the magic of the rounded space
Where light and sound, fury and remorse
Love and gentleness swirled merrily about her.

Years have not wearied her. Life called
And she walked proudly on, held fast by a dream
To fashion life from the rough exigences
Of the actor's art. This was her gift to all.

Let's celebrate dear Carol being seventy five
To hear her say that as in theatre you never quite arrive.