OUT of the multitudinous hours
Of life sealed fast for us by fate,
Are any hours that yet await
Our coming, worthy to be ours ?
Life, in her motley, sheds in showers
The rose of hours still delicate,
But you and I have come too late
Into the Carnival of Flowers.
For us the roses are scarce sweet,
And scarcely swift the flying feet
Where masque to masque the moments call ;
All has been ours that we desired,
And now we are a little tired
Of the eternal carnival.
Symons, Arthur. “In Carnival.” The Savoy vol. 3, July 1896, p. 58. Savoy Digital Edition, edited by Christopher Keep and Lorraine Janzen Kooistra, 2018-2020. Yellow Nineties 2.0, Ryerson University Centre for Digital Humanities, 2019. https://1890s.ca/savoyv3-symons-carnival/