Part 4 (1/2)

My Madonna

I haled me a woman from the street, Shameless, but, oh, so fair!

I bade her sit in the model's seat And I painted her sitting there.

I hid all trace of her heart unclean; I painted a babe at her breast; I painted her as she might have been If the Worst had been the Best.

She laughed at my picture and went away.

Then came, with a knowing nod, A connoisseur, and I heard him say; ”'Tis Mary, the Mother of G.o.d.”

So I painted a halo round her hair, And I sold her and took my fee, And she hangs in the church of Saint Hillaire, Where you and all may see.

Unforgotten

I know a garden where the lilies gleam, And one who lingers in the suns.h.i.+ne there; She is than white-stoled lily far more fair, And oh, her eyes are heaven-lit with dream!

I know a garret, cold and dark and drear, And one who toils and toils with tireless pen, Until his brave, sad eyes grow weary -- then He seeks the stars, pale, silent as a seer.

And ah, it's strange; for, desolate and dim, Between these two there rolls an ocean wide; Yet he is in the garden by her side And she is in the garret there with him.

The Reckoning

It's fine to have a blow-out in a fancy restaurant, With terrapin and canvas-back and all the wine you want; To enjoy the flowers and music, watch the pretty women pa.s.s, Smoke a choice cigar, and sip the wealthy water in your gla.s.s.

It's bully in a high-toned joint to eat and drink your fill, But it's quite another matter when you Pay the bill.

It's great to go out every night on fun or pleasure bent; To wear your glad rags always and to never save a cent; To drift along regardless, have a good time every trip; To hit the high spots sometimes, and to let your chances slip; To know you're acting foolish, yet to go on fooling still, Till Nature calls a show-down, and you Pay the bill.

Time has got a little bill -- get wise while yet you may, For the debit side's increasing in a most alarming way; The things you had no right to do, the things you should have done, They're all put down; it's up to you to pay for every one.

So eat, drink and be merry, have a good time if you will, But G.o.d help you when the time comes, and you Foot the bill.

Quatrains

One said: Thy life is thine to make or mar, To flicker feebly, or to soar, a star; It lies with thee -- the choice is thine, is thine, To hit the ties or drive thy auto-car.

I answered Her: The choice is mine -- ah, no!

We all were made or marred long, long ago.

The parts are written; hear the super wail: ”Who is stage-managing this cosmic show?”

Blind fools of fate and slaves of circ.u.mstance, Life is a fiddler, and we all must dance.

From gloom where mocks that will-o'-wisp, Free-will I heard a voice cry: ”Say, give us a chance.”

Chance! Oh, there is no chance! The scene is set.