And the startling creeds, and the loose cravat;
There was splenetic journalistic Fred,
Of the sharp retort and the shabby hat;
There was dreamy Frank, of the lounging gait,
Who lived on nothing a year, or less,
And always meant to be something great,
But only meant, and smoked to excess;
And last myself, whom their funny sneers
Annoyed no whit as they laughed and said,
I listened to all their grand ideas