perfunctory net

What right have you to call them yours,

And in brute lust of riches burn

Without some radiant penance wrought,

The wide street roars and mutters --

We know it works because it must --

"Dirt is everlasting. -- We never, never fear it.

Toil is never ceasing. -- We will play until we near it.

Tears are never ending. -- When once real tears have come;