Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/110

108 For this our life is none too long, And hearts were made for gladness; Let virtue lie in joy and song, The only sin be sadness.

So let me troll a jolly air, Come what come will to-morrow; I’ll be no cabotin of care, No souteneur of sorrow. Let those who will indulge in strife, To my most merry thinking, The true philosophy of life Is laughing, loving, drinking.

''And there’s that weird and ghastly hag ''Who walks head bent, with lips a-mutter; ''With twitching hands and feet that drag, ''And tattered skirts that sweep the gutter. ''An outworn harlot, lost to hope, ''With staring eyes and hair that’s hoary ''I hear her gibber, dazed with dope: ''I often wonder what's her story.

I look at no one, me; I pass them on the stair; Shadows! I don’t see; Shadows! everywhere.