Are more than they.”
“Then why,” I shrieked, “do gods create?”
As nightfall near and nearer drew,
On either side, a closèd gate ...
I stood, an old man, desolate,
Between the two.
[177]
]A LASS, A LOAF, AND A GOOD CIGAR.
Ye, who are caught in the bonds of debt!
Ye, who are whipt with the thongs of scorn!
Feeding the ghost of some old regret