Classic Poem

I WEAR a crimson cloak to-night,
Villon, Villon, look down and see
I wander insolent and free,
Free as the wind in Montfaucon —
And is thy droll ghost there, Villon,
Thy spirit as my flesh bedight?
Ah, would I might lock arms with thee,
I wear a crimson cloak to-night.

Marlowe, in doublet slashed with gold,
— Insouciant as a drunken star,
Surely no Lethean mandates bar
This life from death, as dark from light?
I wear a crimson cloak to-night,
Bold is my heart, my trappings bold —
Thy rich, bright laugh I hear afar,
Marlowe, in doublet slashed with gold.

I wear a crimson cloak to-night,
Dowson, Baudelaire, Verlaine!
I, too, have seen Octobers wane
And watched decadent Love pass by
With naked feet and drooping eye,
With throat of laughter, lips of light
Trembling to hear thy songs again,
I wear a crimson cloak to-night.

The fainting moon is wan and white,
Our silken courtesan, the moon —
Ah, brothers, hast thou watched her swoon?
Over the stars ye lean to tell:
Death is an endless villanelle
That Life frees poet-hands to write . . .
I'll join thy vagabondia soon,
I wear the crimson cloak to-night!