XXXIV
Envoy
The young men leap, and toss their golden hair,
Run round the land, or sail across the seas:
But one was stricken with a sore disease,—
The lean and swarthy poet of despair.
Know me, the slave of fear and death and shame,
A sad Comedian, a most tragic Fool,
Shallow, imperfect, fashioned without rule,
The doubtful shadow of a demon flame.
GILBERT AND RIVINGTON LD., LONDON
