To drown the memory of such insolence.

AND every note, that, in your cups, you write,
In cold black Type, perchance shall see the light;
While all the World, across its coffee urn,
Shall titter gaily at the sorry sight.

AH yes! For all the papers, which discussed
Your wedding plans, shall turn your cake to crust,
Publish your letters and your photographs,
And trail your Egotism in the dust!

THE Opera Queens, that men have wooed and won,
Have loved them for a while, and then--anon,
Like snow upon Broadway, with lightsome "touch,"
Annexed their millions, and alas, have flown!

OH look you, in the long and varied list
Of Millionaires thus rifled and dismissed,
How, rich man, after rich man, bode his hour,
Then went his way, to swell the golden grist.

WHAT Diva's rubies ever glow so red
As when some Gilded Chappie hath been bled?
And every diamond the Show Girl wears,
Dropped in her lap, when some Fool lost his head.

AND those who hung around the green-room door,
And those who backed the Show and paid the score,
Alike, to no such "Angels" have been turned,
As, once repentant, men feel sorry for.

OH, my Good Fellow, keep the cash, that clears
To-day of unpaid debts and future fears.
To-morrow! Why, to-morrow, you may be,
Yourself, with Yesterday's cast-off millionaires.

THEN, make the most of what you still may spend,
Ere you, too, into bankruptcy descend,
Bill upon bill, and under bill, to lie,
Sans Cash, sans Love, sans Lady--What an end!

* * * * *

WASTE not your evenings in the vain pursuit
Of this or that girl. Bittersweet the fruit!
Better be jocund with them, one and all,
And loving _many_, thus your love dilute.

SOME, with vivacity have sought to charm
Away my fears, and still my soul's alarm;
To win me subtly, with a smile or sigh,
Or sweet appealing touch upon the arm.

OTHERS have tempted me with festive cheer,
And Chafing-dish Concoctions, quaint and queer;
With dear, domestic airs have plied their a