Lookers-On
My dear, though you and I should never win
Parts in the mumming play of life nor shine
In tarletan, or tinsel, mouthing fine
Sweet sentences beneath a limelight moon—
What odds? The seats are cheap, we'll come within
As lookers-on; watch lover and buffoon
And clap for Columbine and Harlequin.
We'll laugh aloud at hoary Pantaloon,
And know our silly wanton hearts akin
To Punchinello's, fooled by love and wine.
The play and players vanish all too soon,—
To envy them were but a churlish sin;
We will not grudge them flute and violin,
We'll clap for Harlequin and Columbine.
To envy them … Ah! yes,—a churlish sin!
Parts in the mumming play of life nor shine
In tarletan, or tinsel, mouthing fine
Sweet sentences beneath a limelight moon—
What odds? The seats are cheap, we'll come within
As lookers-on; watch lover and buffoon
And clap for Columbine and Harlequin.
We'll laugh aloud at hoary Pantaloon,
And know our silly wanton hearts akin
To Punchinello's, fooled by love and wine.
The play and players vanish all too soon,—
To envy them were but a churlish sin;
We will not grudge them flute and violin,
We'll clap for Harlequin and Columbine.
To envy them … Ah! yes,—a churlish sin!
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