Orellana and Other Poems By J. Logie Robertson |
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THE MASK OF MISERY. |
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 | Orellana and Other Poems |  |
II. THE MASK OF MISERY.
“Thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath
a pleasant voice and can play well on an instrument: for they
hear thy words but they do them not.”
The lattice is open, and into the street
Floats music sad and slow;
To the midnight Bobby it's quite a treat
—Up there there's company, light, and heat,
And the luxury of woe.
Floats music sad and slow;
To the midnight Bobby it's quite a treat
—Up there there's company, light, and heat,
And the luxury of woe.
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Now none will say she cannot play,
That lady at the keys;
And the singer that beside her stands
With Gounod's music in his hands
Can melt a soul with ease.
That lady at the keys;
And the singer that beside her stands
With Gounod's music in his hands
Can melt a soul with ease.
There is a green hill far away—
And the passion sinks and swells.
—Do you think they believe it? that lady gay?
That silken tenor? . . . Or would you say
It's a sound and nothing else?
And the passion sinks and swells.
—Do you think they believe it? that lady gay?
That silken tenor? . . . Or would you say
It's a sound and nothing else?
Be this as it may, they dissipate
The night with wailing psalms;
And the rest of the company clap and prate,
While a waif from the Pleasaunce at the gate
Sings merrily for alms.
The night with wailing psalms;
And the rest of the company clap and prate,
While a waif from the Pleasaunce at the gate
Sings merrily for alms.
| Orellana and Other Poems | |