And at last, with a curse on the hopeless strife,
He will knock at the Border Gate
As he slings his hat in the face of Life,
And his boots in the teeth of Fate.
[174]
]BETWEEN TWO GATES.
“Good-day! Good-day, my ancient friend!”
We threw our swags beside the track—
For twenty solid years on end,
Spent as Life’s spendthrifts only spend,