A man of gold, yet poor in soul, Whose heart hath naught to grasp the whole. No love for art, no ear for song, Whose mind recoils from right and wrong. A golden tie, a stiff applause, He sat, bemused, without a cause. The songs of sorrow brushed his coat, He missed the point, he cleared his throat. Beside him, smiles for magazine, Not much was said, not much was seen. The ro...

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