Vanity Fair (UK), July 28, 1904
The gods of chance and circumstance
Encumber men and mice.
We find the further we advance
The prize not worth the price.
So year by year the farce survives
To entertain the gods,
We live our funny little lives;
We die—and what’s the odds?
Die, no—we but retire to let
A better take our place;
To god-like heights the stream is set
That wears a human face.
Ambrosia at length we’ll quaff
While gods sit round aghast,
And man will have the longest laugh
Because he’ll laugh the last.