He was the first always:Fortune Shone bright in his face.I fought for years;with no effort He conquered the place:We ran;my feet were all bleeding,But he won the race.
Spite of his many successes Men loved him the same;My one pale ray of good fortune Met scoffing and blame.When we erred,they gave him pity,But me--only shame.
My home was still in the shadow,His lay in the sun:I longed in vain:what he asked for It straightway was done.Once I staked all my heart's treasure,We played--and he won.
Yes;and just now I have seen him,Cold,smiling,and blest,Laid in his coffin.God help me!While he is at rest,I am cursed still to live:-even Death loved him the best.
