I need not say that I and my prize—I have the right to call her so, for I had fought gallantly for her, and won her, not for life, but for the mazurka—were at the head of all. We danced the mazurka, and danced till six in the morning.
THE ACE OF HEARTS.
I NEVER can see the ace of hearts
(Like a single splash of bright, red blood),
But a train of awful memory starts
And o’er me whirls like a seething flood.
I see the flash of a wicked knife
That settles for all the hot dispute—
A cruel end to a sweet young life,
A boyish face lying white and mute.