I
Pleasure seekers, silken clad,
Led by cherub Day,
Ours the duty to be glad,
Ours the toil of play.
Sleep has bound the commonplace,
Pleasure rules the dawn.
Small hours set the merry pace
And we follow on.
We must use the joys of earth,
All its cares we’ll keep;
Night was made for youth and mirth,
Day was made for sleep.
Time has cut his beard, and lo!
He is but a boy,
Singing, on with him we go,
Ah! but life is joy.
II
We are the vendors of beauty,
We the purveyors for hell;
The carnal bliss of a purchased kiss
And the pleasures that blight, we sell.
God pity us; God pity the world.
We are the sad race-victims
Of the misused force in man,
Of the great white flame burned black with shame
And lost to the primal plan.
God pity us; God pity the world.
We are the Purpose of Being
Gone wrong in the thought of the world.
The torch for its hand made a danger brand
And into the darkness hurled.
God pity us; God pity the world.