Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/93

Rh And then last week I missed her, and they found her in the street One morning early, huddled down, for it was freezing cold; But when they raised her ragged shawl her face was still and sweet; Some bits of broken bloom were clutched within her icy hold. That’s all.… Ah yes, they say that saw: her blue, wide-open eyes Were beautiful with joy again, with radiant surprise.…

A week ago she begged for bread; we’ve bought for her a stone, And a peaceful place in Père-La-Chaise where she’ll be well alone. She cost a king his crown, they say; oh, wouldn’t she be proud If she could see the wreaths to-day, the coaches and the crowd! So follow, follow, follow on with slow and sober tread, For Marie Toro, gutter waif and queen of queens, is dead.