116
THE GOOD OF IT.
Some clothe bare Truth in fine garments of words,
Fetter her free limbs with cumbersome state:
With me, let me sit at the lordliest boards,
"I love" means I love, and "I hate" means I hate,
But, but, where is the good of it?
Fetter her free limbs with cumbersome state:
With me, let me sit at the lordliest boards,
"I love" means I love, and "I hate" means I hate,
But, but, where is the good of it?
Some have rich dainties and costly attire,
Guests fluttering round them and duns at the door:
I crouch alone at my plain board and fire,
Enjoy what I pay for and scorn to have more.
Yet, yet, where is the good of it?
Guests fluttering round them and duns at the door:
I crouch alone at my plain board and fire,
Enjoy what I pay for and scorn to have more.
Yet, yet, where is the good of it?
Some gather round them a phalanx of friends,
Scattering affection like coin in a crowd;
I keep my heart for the few that heaven sends,
Where they 'll find their names writ when I lie in my shroud.
Still, still, where is the good of it?
Scattering affection like coin in a crowd;
I keep my heart for the few that heaven sends,
Where they 'll find their names writ when I lie in my shroud.
Still, still, where is the good of it?
Some toy with love, lightly come, lightly go,
A blithe game at hearts, little worth, little cost:—
I staked my whole soul on one desperate throw,
A life 'gainst an hour's sport. We played; and I—lost.
Ha, ha, such was the good of it!
A blithe game at hearts, little worth, little cost:—
I staked my whole soul on one desperate throw,
A life 'gainst an hour's sport. We played; and I—lost.
Ha, ha, such was the good of it!
