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My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends— It gives a lovely light!
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand: Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!
I loved you Wednesday,—yes—but what Is that to me?
Oh, the things I haven't seen and the things I haven't known.
With him for a sire and her for a dam, What should I be but just what I am?
Was it for this I uttered prayers, And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs, That now, domestic as a plate, I should retire at half-past eight?
