The Logan Republican. [volume] (Logan, Utah) 1902-1924, 1903-04-07
WILLOWS LAST VERSE
REMARKABLE LINES ATTRIBUTED
TO GREAT POET,
John D. Swain Recalls Mythical Death.
bed Scene Of the Famous French.
msn-seauty In His Description Of
a Wasted Life.

(Francois Villon, being about to as
worthy friar would fam have shrived
him. and did earnestly cxhort that he
should confess him at this time Of
those acts Of his life which he "a
regret. Villon babe him return yet
again. that he might have time to
think him Of his sins. Upon the good
fathers return villon was dead; but
by his side were the following verses,
his last, wherein he set forth things
which he did regret. Whereat the
friar was sore grieved and hid them
away among the manuscripts Of his
abbey, showing them to no man, yet
they were found in some wise. The
pame Of the friar and the very place
where stood the abbey are forgot, but
the verses have endured unto this
day.
!. Francois Vilion, ia en- at last
To this rude bed where all must lie,
Fain would forget the turbid past
Would be shrved?" All, can / tel1
Nor worth the dignity Of hell;
Ifnot, then III avails 1t me.
To name them one and all-and yet
There be some things which l regretl
The sack of abbeys. many a brawi,
A score OF fe-thrusts in the dark,
And years IN IN do ionic eold and . starry
These crimes and pains seem far away
Now that I come at length to die;
It's idle for the past to pray
CTS hopeless for the past to sigh)
These are troubled dream-and yet
For them / have but scant regret!
The toll my mother lived to know,
What years lay in gives for debt;
Pretty song heard long ago:
rSe crust know R s T ynr forget
Though all too scant for my poor use.
The friend 1 left to die alone,
Pa rn the Waterman pressed ~
Trifes, against my crimes to set,
Yet these are all which I regret.
Captains and cut-throats not a few.
And maidens fair of many a cline
Have named me friend in the wild past
When as we wallowed in the slime
SAMPLERS and roRues and clever thieves,
And unfrocked priests, sorry crew.
How stubbornly the memory cleaves
To all who have befriended, YOU'D
drain cup to them-and yet
It's not for such i feel regret!
My foundered horse, who died for me
tNor whip nor spur was his, | weenO
That day the hangman looked to see
Poor Villon earth and sky between!
A mongrel cur who shared my lot
three bitter winters on the lie:
He held the rabble off, God wot.
One time / cheated In the deal:
Twas but an instant: while l fled
Down vile alley. known to me
Back In the tavern he lay dead:
The gamblers raged-but went free!
Humble. poor brutes at best: and yet
They are the friends whom l regret!
And exc the lilies were a-blow
Through all the sunny fields Of France
l marked one whittier than the snow
And would have gathered 1t. perchance
Had not some trihe I forget
"a bishops loot, a cask Of wine
Filched from some carbot-a bet-)
Distracted this wild head OF mine.
childish fancy this, and yet
1t Is thing that / regret!
Again. rode through Picardy
What time the vine was In the bud
A little maiden smiled on me,
might have kissed her, and would!
I've known n thousand maidens since.
And many have been kind to me
I've never seen one quite so fair
AS she. that day In Picardy.
Ashes Of roses, these. and yet
They are the things which I regret!
And blossomed on another breast;
Others have clasped the little hands
Whose rosy palms I might have pressed;
So; ,G as ! die my wasted youth ,u..,.
Still, ] have lived! And having lived
That much Is mine. / mock at death!
should confess, you say? But yet
For life alone / have regret!
Envoy.
bubbles OF the vanished wine
To which my lips were never set!
Whose ruddy warmth I never met!
Father, but trifies these and yet
They are the things which l regret!