Grimly he forced his way,
Amid the perfumes and the fairy lights,
And trickling fountain-spray,
Where mandolins were sounding low and sweet,
And on the marble tiles
Twinkled and shone the dancers’ slender feet,
And all was joy and smiles.
One dark blot on the joyous life and stir,
There stood he, fierce and still,
Holding his token out as messenger