VERSE: ENVY

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.