“Pray don’t think me cynical,” he said to Sargon. “It is just pure Joy de Vive.”
Sargon could not stand it any longer. This was damnable teaching to fling out before the very regenerator of mankind. He suddenly thrust out a pointing finger. “You are wrong!” he said loudly and sharply.
The poet stared for a minute and with a gesture of salutation said: “Tra-la-la-la.”
“I tell you life is real,” cried Sargon. “Life is immense. Life is full of meaning and order. I have come to tell you and all men so.”
The poet interrupted smilingly and politely with:
“Tra-la-la
Tra-la-la
Life is a hiccup and life is a sneeze
A smell from a dunghill borne on the breeze
A thing of no moment—so do as you please!