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.