"
Scarlet little dreamer of a frozen dream,
Whirling bit of tinsel on the troubled spray,
'Tis not your hair's dead roses (your sunless, scentless roses)
'Tis not your sham sad poses
That tell your hollow day--
The glass is at _my_ lips, but the wine is far away,
The music's in _my_ throat, but my soul no song discloses,
The laughter's on _my_ tongue, but my heart is clay.
IN THE THEATRE
Weep not, fair lady, for the false,
The fickle love's rememberance,
What though another claim the waltz--
The curtain soon will close the dance.
Grieve not, pale lover, for the sweet,
Wild moment of thy vanished bliss;
The longest scene as Time is fleet--
The curtain soon will close the kiss.
And thou, too vain, too flattered mime,
Drink deep the pleasures of thy day,
No ruin is too mean for Time--
The curtain soon will close the play.
WALTER J. KINGSLEY
LO, THE PRESS AGENT
By many names men call me--
Press agent, publicity promoter, faker;
Ofttimes the short and simple liar.
Charles A. Dana told me
I was a buccaneer
On the high seas of journalism.
Many a newspaper business manager
Has charged me
With selling his space
Over his head.
Every one loves me
When I get his name into print--
For this is an age of publicity
And he who bloweth not his own horn
The same shall not be blown.
I have sired, nursed and reared
Many reputations.
Few men or women have I found
Scornful of praise or blame
In the press.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25