In the strange drama of the Past
It was my part
To hold carousal to the last;
It was for me to hide the shame,
And brave the world
With lies about our ancient name!
I played it well, and played it long:
But let it pass,
The world has never known the 'wrong.


IV.

Upheave, black mould, and totter all
The ruin down!
Fall, monumental pillars, fall,
Upon her grave! Above her breast
May ivy creep,
And roses blow! I choose to rest.




THE HOUSE OF YOUTH.


The rough north winds have left their icy caves
To growl and grope for prey
Upon the murky sea;