Page:Jevons Block.djvu/21





I married a famous palmist In Leipzig— Joined myself to one Who had imagination but no rhythm in her soul— To gain a home Long since dissolved by extravagance and death. It was my desire to live well; In Paris if I might choose Where poets are not so much the fashion As the feeders of a lyric nation. The Alexandrine was my metre, None it seems care about that in this country. And not to starve I stilled my song To vend the songs of other poets Whose vocation is but avocation now with me. Fate has not been friend to me. Could I have loved like Rupert Brooke Or lived like Amy Lowell I ask you fairly to decide If I'd be urging you to buy their books Instead of selling my own?