First came the silent gazers; next,
  A screen of glass, we’re thankful for; 20
Last, the sight’s self, the sermon’s text,
  The three men who did most abhor
Their life in Paris yesterday,
  So killed themselves:  and now, enthroned
Each on his copper couch, they lay
  Fronting me, waiting to be owned. 
  I thought, and think, their sin’s atoned.

Poor men, God made, and all for that! 
  The reverence struck me; o’er each head
Religiously was hung its hat, 30
  Each coat dripped by the owner’s bed,
Sacred from touch:  each had his berth,
  His bounds, his proper place of rest,
Who last night tenanted on earth
  Some arch, where twelve such slept abreast,—­
  Unless the plain asphalt seemed best.

How did it happen, my poor boy? 
  You wanted to be Buonaparte
And have the Tuileries deg. for toy, deg.39
 And could not, so it broke your heart? 40
You, old one by his side, I judge,
  Were, red as blood, a socialist,
A leveller!  Does the Empire grudge
  You’ve gained what no Republic missed? 
  Be quiet, and unclench your fist!

And this—­why, he was red in vain,
  Or black,—­poor fellow that is blue deg.! deg.47
What fancy was it, turned your brain? 
  Oh, women were the prize for you! 
Money gets women, cards and dice 50
  Get money, and ill-luck gets just
The copper couch and one clear nice
  Cool squirt of water o’er your bust,
  The right thing to extinguish lust!

It’s wiser being good than bad;
  It’s safer being meek than fierce: 
It’s fitter being sane than mad. 
  My own hope is, a sun will pierce
The thickest cloud earth ever stretched;
  That, after Last, returns the First, 60
Tho’ a wide compass round be fetched;
  That what began best, can’t end worst,
  Nor what God blessed once, prove accurst.

* * * * *

FEARS AND SCRUPLES

Here’s my case.  Of old I used to love him. 
  This same unseen friend, before I knew: 
Dream there was none like him, none above him,—­
  Wake to hope and trust my dream was true.

Loved I not his letters deg. full of beauty? deg.5
  Not his actions famous far and wide? 
Absent, he would know I vowed him duty,
  Present, he would find me at his side.

Pleasant fancy! for I had but letters,
  Only knew of actions by hearsay:  10
He himself was busied with my betters;
  What of that?  My turn must come some day.