Caught Life with his make-up off,
Found him but a harlequin
Cast to play a tragic part--
And the two laughed, heart to heart!


IN A CAFÈ

Her face was the face of Age, with a pitiful smudge of Youth,
Carmine and heavy and lined, like a jester's mask on Truth;
And she laughed from the red lips outward, the laugh of the brave who die,
But a ghost in her laughter murmured, "I lie--I lie!"

She pressed the glass to her lips as one presses the lips of love,
And I said: "Are you always merry, and what is the art thereof?"
And she laughed from the red lips outward the laugh of the brave who die,
But a ghost in her laughter murmured, "I lie--I lie!"


TO A CABARET SINGER

Painted little singer of a painted song,
Painted little butterfly of a painted day,
The false blooms in your tresses, the spangles on your dresses,
The cold of your caresses,
I'll tell you what they say--
"The glass is at my lips, but the wine is far away,
The music's in my throat, but my soul no song confesses,
The laughter's on my tongue, but my heart is clay."