Bones in a matting rolled;
No wrong or right, the loss is slight,
The world-old fooled of gold.
“The legion that never was listed”—
The glamor of words in a song,
The lure of the strange and exotic,
The drift of the few from the throng;
The past that was never resisted
In the ebb or the flow of desire,
The foolish, the sordid, ambitious,