Interludes and Undertones, or, Music at Twilight By Charles Mackay |
| 3 |  |
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| XX. |
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| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX.. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
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| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
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| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
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| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
| LXXII. |
| LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXI. |
| LXXXII. |
| LXXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXXV. |
| LXXXVI. |
| LXXXVII. |
| LXXXVIII. |
| LXXXIX. |
| XC. |
| XCI. |
| XCII. |
| XCIII. |
| XCIV. |
| XCV. |
| XCVI. |
| XCVII. |
| XCVIII. |
| XCIX. |
| C. |
| CI. |
| CII. |
| CIII. |
| CIV. |
| CV. |
| CVI. |
| CVII. |
| CVIII. |
| CIX. |
| CX. |
| CXI. |
| CXII. |
| CXIII. |
| CXIV. |
| CXV. |
| CXVI. |
| CXVII. | CXVII. IN A WARM BATH.
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| CXVIII. |
| CXIX. |
| CXX. |
| CXXI. |
| CXXII. |
| CXXIII. |
| CXXIV. |
| CXXV. |
| CXXVI. |
 | CXXVII. |
| 3 | CXXVIII. |
| CXXIX. |
| CXXX. |
| CXXXI. |
| CXXXII. |
 | Interludes and Undertones, or, Music at Twilight |  |
154
CXVII. IN A WARM BATH.
Days dawn when I detest the world
And everything that Time produces,
When men seem knaves, and women worse,
And nothing serves for goodly uses;
When every tongue propounds a lie,
And malice taints the fairest faces,
When sun and moon are cold and dark,
And demons climb to Heaven's high places.
And everything that Time produces,
When men seem knaves, and women worse,
And nothing serves for goodly uses;
When every tongue propounds a lie,
And malice taints the fairest faces,
When sun and moon are cold and dark,
And demons climb to Heaven's high places.
But when this blight afflicts my soul,
I take a bath, and revel in it,
And all the evil fancies fade,
One after other, by the minute;
My brain grows cool,—my pulse beats calm,
The world regains its bygone savour;
And feeling I've grown wise once more,
I take my fellows back to favour.
I take a bath, and revel in it,
And all the evil fancies fade,
One after other, by the minute;
My brain grows cool,—my pulse beats calm,
The world regains its bygone savour;
And feeling I've grown wise once more,
I take my fellows back to favour.
| Interludes and Undertones, or, Music at Twilight | |