I, WHO LAUGHED MY YOUTH AWAY
I, who laughed my youth away
And blew bubbles to the sky,
Thin as air and frail as fire,
Opals, pearls of such desire
As a saint could but admire;
Now as azure as a sigh,
Then with passion all aglow —
Golden, crimson, purple, gray
Moods and moments of a day —
Have been gay,
Yea,
As they,
Sailing high,
Sinking low;
Even so
Pierrot,
Walking Paris in a trance,
With my weary feet in France
And my heart in Bergamo,
Loved — and lost my laughing way.
I, of course, have never had
Any great amount of gold
Other than my bubbles hold.
Love? I have no loving plan
As a guide to beast or man,
Being neither good nor bad,
Just a sort of sorry lad.
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