Wouldn't you be bored when a million
Silent stars shine around the world,
Each cluster sparkling in a different mould,
All still - yet flying?
Still the earth, the aeons vast,
And those living at this hour
Of whom not a bone will last,
Though men will be as now.
Wouldn't you be bored on a stage
So amateurish and small,
Where everyone's Ideals rage
And the show is paid with life ?
Truly, how is one to kill the time,
I am most sincerely bored;
What remedy, Madam, should I explore,
Shall I write prose or rhyme ?
Or write nothing... just sit in the sun
Absorbed in that fine romance
Composed by the Flood upon grains of sand,
Doubtless for the amusement of man(!)
Or better still - I know a braver way
Against this damned ennui:
Forget p e o p l e, make calls on p e r s o n s ,
Wear a neatly fastened tie ! ...