IN A MUSIC-HALL: 4. STANLEY TRAFFORD by JOHN DAVIDSON

THIS of me may well be said
Of a host as well as me:
He held himself as great; he made
His genius his own protégé."

I loved the beauteous star- veiled truth ,
I strove and failed, and strove again.
I wrote some verses in my youth,
And knew two noted poets then.

Now I wear a tinsel dress,
Now I strum a gilt guitar;
For I made my first success
As "The Sentimental Star."

I could be more glad than most,
I was born for happiness .
Since despair began to boast,
No one ever tasted less.

The sun, the stars, the moon, the sea
I say no word of these-a sign,
A little good sufficed for me,
A rose's scent made heaven mine.

But most some old thing newly thought
By some fresh thinker pleased my sense,
And strong, sweet words with rapture wrought,
And tempered with intelligence.

I craved not wealth, I craved not fame,
Not even a home; but only time
To dream the willing dreams that came,
And keep their record in a rhyme.

Wherefore I starved, and hither fell,
A star in this the nether heaven.
Without, I shine; within, is hell.
What might have been had I still striven,

Had I not sold my soul for bread!
But what is this? I'm dull to-night;
My heart has quite seduced my head;
I'm talking poetry outright.

Ha, ha! I'll sing my famous song,
I feel I can recall its tone;
The boy's dream suits the gas- lit throng!
Mark "Words and music all my own."

And then, oh, then! Houp-la! Just so!
Selene, Lily, Mary-Jane?
With which, I wonder, shall I go
And drown it all in bad champagne?

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