Page:General William Booth enters into Heaven, and other poems.djvu/36

20

IFE'S a jail where men have common lot. Gaunt the one who has, and who has not. All our treasures neither less nor more, Bread alone comes thro' the guarded door. Cards are foolish in this jail, I think, Yet they play for shoes, for drabs and drink. She, my lawless, sharp-tongued gypsy maid Will not scorn with me this jail-bird trade, Pets some fox-eyed boy who turns the trick, Tho' he win a button or a stick, Pencil, garter, ribbon, corset-lace&mdash; His the glory, mine is the disgrace.

Sweet, I'd rather lose than win despite Love of hearty words and maids polite. "Love's a gamble," say you. I deny. Love's a gift. I love you till I die. Gamblers fight like rats. I will not play. All I ever had I gave away. All I ever coveted was peace Such as comes if we have jail release.