Interludes and Undertones, or, Music at Twilight By Charles Mackay |
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II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
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XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
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XXV. |
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XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX.. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. |
XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
L. |
LI. |
LII. |
LIII. |
LIV. | LIV. NUT-CRACKING.
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LVI. |
LVII. |
LVIII. |
LIX. |
LX. |
LXI. |
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. |
CXVIII. |
CXIX. |
CXX. |
CXXI. |
CXXII. |
CXXIII. |
CXXIV. |
CXXV. |
CXXVI. |
CXXVII. |
3 | CXXVIII. |
CXXIX. |
CXXX. |
CXXXI. |
CXXXII. |
Interludes and Undertones, or, Music at Twilight | ||
67
LIV. NUT-CRACKING.
When I could crack a nut
With the molars in my jaws,
With teeth all white and steadfast,
And innocent of flaws,
I laughed at angry Fortune,
Made light of coming sorrow,
Was happy all the day,
And careless of the morrow.
With the molars in my jaws,
With teeth all white and steadfast,
And innocent of flaws,
I laughed at angry Fortune,
Made light of coming sorrow,
Was happy all the day,
And careless of the morrow.
I trusted men and women,
And women most, maybe!—
Oh, pleasant was that spring-time
To my teeth and me!
But now, when teeth are shaky,
And going one by one,
I find, like Israel's monarch,
Small good beneath the sun.
And women most, maybe!—
Oh, pleasant was that spring-time
To my teeth and me!
But now, when teeth are shaky,
And going one by one,
I find, like Israel's monarch,
Small good beneath the sun.
I cannot crack a nut,
I cannot find a truth
In man or lovely woman,
Like those I found in youth.
Put back, O cruel Fortune,
Thy sword into its sheath,
Let me believe in something,
And contradict my teeth!
I cannot find a truth
In man or lovely woman,
Like those I found in youth.
68
Thy sword into its sheath,
Let me believe in something,
And contradict my teeth!
Interludes and Undertones, or, Music at Twilight | ||