34
POEMS.
Look well, O world, before Time turns the page,
The gaudy pageant passes through your street;
The envious apes rage in your market place—
Science and art are breathless in the race
For fortune, where for fame they did compete.
The yellow fever of the yellow age
Has spread from slave to king, from fool to sage.
The gaudy pageant passes through your street;
The envious apes rage in your market place—
Science and art are breathless in the race
For fortune, where for fame they did compete.
The yellow fever of the yellow age
Has spread from slave to king, from fool to sage.
C. D.
