A Charitable Night
East, West, North, South
From jail he sought her, and he found
A darkened house, a darkened street,
A shrilly sky that screamed of sleet,
And from The Lane quick gusts of sound.
He mocked at life that men call sweet.
He went and wiped it out in beer—
“Well, dammit, why should I stick here,
By a dark house in a dark street?”
For he and his but serve defeat;
For kings they gather gems and gold,
And life for them, when all is told,
Is a dark house in a dark street.