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THE SORROWFUL MASQUERADE

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Even as to a music, stately and sad,

The young girl’s feet begin to move in a dance,

And curiously, for joy, shift and advance;

So to a mournful waltz, sombre and sweet,

All laughing things move with delighted feet—

So all things that draw light and laughing breath

Move to the mournful waltz of life and death:

Comedy is a girl dancing in time

To the tragic pipes, sorrowful and sublime;

And ever she laughs back, and as she skips

Mimics the mournful music with her lips;

Then, for sheer anger at her own pretense,

Sobs violently at her own vehemence;

And mocks her tears. But when the pipings sleep,

She needs must cover up her face and weep.

The Black Panther: A book of poems

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