Classic Poem

In vain the city voices call;
The outlands claim us evermore.
Youth and Romance and Love and all
Have passed, with all we dreamed before.
The hounds of Truth along the way
Had with our pace their paces set;
And yet it was but yesterday
We lost the girl we can't forget.

Yes, it was only yesterday
We danced with her in Gentrytown.
She mocked the budding bloom of May
With silken ankle, flowered gown;
And we — we played that endless game
And Fortune's every challenge met.
We lost; but still we love the name
Of her, the girl we can't forget.

Oh, Gentrytown! Adorable
To him who knows no man's commands;
The paradise of wealth, the hell
Of all who labor with their hands.
We labor not — that in your face!
Nor stride where Moloch spreads his net.
But no! We'll bless the dwelling place
Of her, the girl we can't forget.

What trails remain unknown to us
O'er desert, timberland or sea?
What sin has not been shown to us?
What greed, what hate, what misery?
As drunk with wine of wandering
We sang a merry canzonet,
As even now we rise to sing
Of her, the girl we can't forget.

What visions at the wayside fire
As the slow smoke disturbs the air!
What pallid shapes of wan desire
Gnaw at our hearts the while we stare
Across the flame at Gentrytown....
With foolish tears our cheeks are wet;
Tears? Nay! But jewels on the gown
Of her, the girl we can't forget.

To win is fame — to lose, disgrace.
We lost. There is no more to tell.
Ah, girl, in furbelow and lace,
We lost for you, yet love you well.
Exiles are we of Gentrytown;
Outlawed we plod the trails, and yet
Until the lone, last moon goes down,
There lives one girl we can't forget.