Here are the needles. See that he dies
While the effects of the drug endure. . . .
What is the question he asks with his eyes?
Yes, All-Highest, to God, be sure.]
ET DONA FERENTES
1896
IN EXTENDED observation of the ways and works of man,
From the Four-mile Radius roughly to the Plains of
Hindustan:
I have drunk with mixed assemblies, seen the racial ruction rise,
And the men of half Creation damning half Creation's eyes.
I have watched them in their tantrums, all that pentecostal crew,
French, Italian, Arab, Spaniard, Dutch and Greek, and Russ and Jew,
Celt and savage, buff and ochre, cream and yellow, mauve and white;
But it never really mattered till the English grew polite;
Till the men with polished toppers, till the men in long frock-coats,
Till the men who do not duel, till the men who war with votes,
Till the breed that take their pleasures as Saint Lawrence took his grid,
Began to "beg your pardon" and the knowing croupier
hid.
Then the bandsmen with their fiddles, and the girls that bring the beer,
Felt the psychologic moment, left the lit casino clear;
