And her lips, where once were lips, close pressed;
For the last one out she loves the best.
"Come fly with me o'er the paving stones
That all my friends may rattle your bones."
For the last one out she loves the best.
"Come fly with me o'er the paving stones
That all my friends may rattle your bones."
Grieve not, my friend, that the truth is known,
No more need you start at the stifled moan,
Or the muffled sound of the rattling bones;
For fast and far o'er the pavement stones
No more need you start at the stifled moan,
Or the muffled sound of the rattling bones;
For fast and far o'er the pavement stones
Goes the hateful thing you have hid so long,
To gladden the gossiping idle throng.
Let them have it all to themselves alone;
Let them pick it over, bone by bone.
To gladden the gossiping idle throng.
Let them have it all to themselves alone;
Let them pick it over, bone by bone.
Beautiful things may the future bring,
Forget the ghastly grinning thing,
With its lanky limb and its senseless stare;
Make room in your heart for the pure, the fair.
Forget the ghastly grinning thing,
With its lanky limb and its senseless stare;
Make room in your heart for the pure, the fair.
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