Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/87

Rh Oh votaries of velvet vice!… Oh gods of light divine!

Oh Baudelaire, Verlaine and Wilde, they knew the sinks of shame; Their sun-aspiring wings they scorched at passion’s altar flame; Yet lo! enthroned, enskied they stand, Immortal Sons of Fame.

I dreamed I saw three demi-gods who walked with feet of clay, With cruel crosses on their backs, along a miry way; Who climbed and climbed the bitter steep to which men turn and pray.

We’re taking Marie Toro to her home in Père-La-Chaise; We’re taking Marie Toro to her last resting-place. Behold! her hearse is hung with wreaths till everything is hid Except the blossoms heaping high upon her coffin lid. A week ago she roamed the street, a draggle and a slut, A by-word of the Boulevard and everybody's butt;