In the Theatre

Weep not, fair lady, for the false,
The fickle love’s rememberance,
What though another claim the waltz—
The curtain soon will close the dance.

Grieve not, pale lover, for the sweet,
Wild moment of thy vanished bliss;
The longest scene as Time is fleet—
The curtain soon will close the kiss.

And thou, too vain, too flattered mime,
Drink deep the pleasures of thy day,
No ruin is too mean for Time—
The curtain soon will close the play.