Freston
25
But if I thus poach on Eladio's ground,
I fear he will not think me charming,
A danger, my friend, I'd not risk for the world,—
The thought of it is quite alarming!
I wonder what fate will the years bring to us,—
The four that are here and one wanted—
For some of us now, though unknown, I am sure,
Shall the paen of praise yet be chanted.
When you, the great actor, unspoiled by the praise,
And the blame that will come in full measure,
Shall look back on these old Bohemian days,
With a sense of regret yet of pleasure,
And wonder if this lifeless wreath of green bays,
That rests on the hair now grown grayer,
Was worth all the struggle or one of those days,
When love was free gift, and life gayer.
And the blame that will come in full measure,
Shall look back on these old Bohemian days,
With a sense of regret yet of pleasure,
And wonder if this lifeless wreath of green bays,
That rests on the hair now grown grayer,
Was worth all the struggle or one of those days,
When love was free gift, and life gayer.
And he, the young artist, whose nimble brush now
Depicts most of all ballet ladies,
With skirts very short and with kicks very tall—
The last one I named modest Madies—
Will never let Italy's skies of fair blue,
Nor his pictures in Paris salon,
Depicts most of all ballet ladies,
With skirts very short and with kicks very tall—
The last one I named modest Madies—
Will never let Italy's skies of fair blue,
Nor his pictures in Paris salon,
