This Inconstancy Is Such

Chestnut Street is dark and gloomy 11:30 P. M.
But from an upper window
Comes the insane ecstasy of jazz.
Cling-cling of little bells,
Rattle of drums,
Tick-tock of the gourds,
Crash of cymbals,
Wail of violins on the placid night.
Life is tragic;
Life is damnable;
But I do a little scamper of my own
There on the pavement.
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