BALLADE OF LIFE.

Say, fair maids, maying In gardens green, In deep dells straying, What end hath been Two Mays between Of the flowers that shone And your own sweet queen — “They are dead and gone!”

Say, grave priests, praying In dule and teen, From cells decaying What have ye seen Of the proud and mean, Of Judas and John, Of the foul and clean?— “They are dead and gone!”

Say, kings, arraying Loud wars to win, Of your manslaying What gain ye glean? “They are fierce and keen, But they fall anon, On the sword that lean,— They are dead and gone!”

Through the mad world's scene, We are drifting on, To this tune, I ween, “They are dead and gone!”