Page:The town down the river; a book of poems.djvu/120



Child of a line accurst
 * And old as Troy,

Bringer of best and worst
 * In wild alloy—

Light, like a linnet first,
 * He sang for joy.

Thrall to the gilded ease
 * Of every day,

Mocker of all degrees
 * And always gay,

Child of the Cyclades
 * And of Broadway—