by: Eugene O'Neill (1888-1953)
- HE music
blares into a ragtime tune--
- The dancers whirl around the polished floor;
- Each powdered face a set expression wore
- Of dull satiety, and wan smiles swoon
- On rouged lips at sallies opportune
- Of maudlin youths whose sodden spirits soar
- On drunken wings; while through the opening door
- A chilly blast sweeps like the breath of doom.
- In a sleek dress suit an old man sits and leers
- With vulture mouth and blood-shot, beady eyes
- At the young girl beside him. Drunken tears
- Fall down her painted face, and choking sighs
- Shake her, as into his familiar ears
- She sobs her sad, sad history -- and lies!
POEMS BY EUGENE O'NEILL
"The Haymarket" is reprinted
from the New London Telegraph, 21 November, 1912.