Wilbur Royce Rice,
Was the movie Mogul of his time,
He began his career in film,
With a camera and a dime,
A silent world Rice screened,
Of great empires now dust,
The Egyptians, the Romans,
The Greek gods with a bust,
Invested in dreams,
Created film stories,
With heart-string pulling themes,
A film studio he built,
He was a "genius" they declared,
The awards kept coming,
And, a great fortune he fared,
Then, silent movies,
All went away,
But, Wilbur Royce Rice,
Had an ankle of clay,
He was stubborn all knew,
And, he couldn't change with the bunch,
So, the new era in film,
Took poor Wilbur out with one punch,
Alas, the bauble market blew up,
The dream investments, just schemes,
And, all the filmed stories,
Went rot like paper reams,
Wilbur was broke without his camera or dime,
He could have come back if he wasn't old and had time,
And, the pictures changed more, from the old black and white,
To movies with color that Wilbur disparaged as blight,
So, what gain a man with great talent without range?
Just the title of has-been and epitaph "Would Not Change,"