First Merchant

Some sell because the money gleams, and some Because they are in terror of the grave, And some because their neighbours sold before, And some because there is a kind of joy In casting hope away, in losing joy, In ceasing all resistance, in at last Opening one's arms to the eternal flames, In casting all sails out upon the wind; To this--full of the gaiety of the lost-- Would all folk hurry if your gold were gone.