SONGS OF LA MOUCHE.
Masqueraders.
Life is but a masquerade—
You must choose some well-worn part,
Play, and be for playing paid,
Take your money and depart.
You must choose some well-worn part,
Play, and be for playing paid,
Take your money and depart.
Yet the spangled Harlequin,
Agile dandy full of jest,
Hides beneath a cloak of sin
The mystic's heart within his breast.
Agile dandy full of jest,
Hides beneath a cloak of sin
The mystic's heart within his breast.
Columbine with flaunting frills
Makes an all-devoted wife;
Gigantic hidden laughter fills
The fur-robed Doctor's solemn life.
Makes an all-devoted wife;
Gigantic hidden laughter fills
The fur-robed Doctor's solemn life.
And the slippered Pantaloon
Suffers from a broken heart,
Sings his sorrows to the moon,
Tender lyrics, full of art.
Suffers from a broken heart,
Sings his sorrows to the moon,
Tender lyrics, full of art.
So beneath each daily task
Life flows on, a hidden stream—
Every wise man wears a mask,
Only fools are what they seem.
Life flows on, a hidden stream—
Every wise man wears a mask,
Only fools are what they seem.
Paris, April, 1849.
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