Explore "Vanity Fair" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In Vanity Fair, as we bow and smile, / As we talk of the opera after the weather, / As we chat of fashion and fad and style, / We know we are playing a part together. / You know that the mirth she wears, she borrows; / She knows you laugh but to hide your sorrows; / We know that under the silks and laces, / And back of beautiful, beaming faces, / Lie secret trouble and grim despair, / In Vanity Fair.
In Vanity Fair, on dress parade, / Our colours look bright and our swords are gleaming; / But many a uniform's worn and frayed, / And most of the weapons, despite their seeming, / Are dull and blunted and badly battered, / And close inspection will show how tattered / And stained are the banners that float above us. / Our comrades hate, while they swear to love us; / And robed like Pleasure walks gaunt-eyed Care, / In Vanity Fair.