O SIR, SMART SCENE! If you rearrange the above letters, In a particular way. You will discover a famous director, To whom homage many pay.

Twice a year the axis leans, to mark extremes in solar means. When land dips deepest into night, or basks the longest in the light. Since ancient times we do behold, ancestors stone and bronze have told.

A rider's help, far less than sage; It's what you get when you turn a page.

John and Paul and George and such, teeming throngs dearly want to touch.

I sound like sweetness, a pet name; I was a scourge, stoker of war's flame.