Page:Songs from Vagabondia (1897).djvu/67

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Oh, but life went gayly, gayly,In the house of Idiedaily!
There the hearth was always warm,From the slander of the storm.
There your comrade was your neighbor,Living on to-morrow’s labor.
And the board was always steaming,Though Sir Ringlets might be dreaming.
Not a plate but scoffed at porridge,Not a cup but floated borage.
There were always jugs of sherryWaiting for the makers merry,
And the dark Burgundian wineThat would make a fool divine.
Oh, but life went gayly, gayly,In the house of Idiedaily!

RESIGNATION.

When I am only fit to go to bed,Or hobble out to sit within the sun,Ring down the curtain, say the play is done,And the last petals of the poppy shed!

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