Page:The town down the river; a book of poems.djvu/45

 Three separate parts of one thing, which is Pain... Bah, what a way to die!— To leave my Queen still spinning there on high, Still wondering, I dare say, To see me in this way. . . Madame a sa tour monte Si haut qu'elle peut monter— Like one of our Commissioners. . . ''ai! ai!'' Prometheus and the women have to cry, But no, not I. . . Faugh, what a way to die!

But who are these that come and go Before me, shaking laurel as they pass? Laurel, to make me know For certain what they mean: That now my Fate, my Queen,