Page:A masque of dead florentines.djvu/11

 Here you see, as in a glass,

Death and Florence grip and pass.

One was scornful as a maid

In her bravery fresh array'd:

One was brawny, hearted brass—

Which look'd longer, Death or lass?

Gentles, you and Death and I

Have a friendly fall to try.

He is masterful and plays

Steadily; looks not for praise,

Heeds no blame. Your head is high,

High as mine—but by and bye?