AN AUTHOR WANTED.
[TO THE EDITOR OF THE " SPECTATOR.") Sor,—The lines quoted by your correspondent in the Spectator of
March 30th come from a song called "Life," set to music by the late Jacques Blumenthal. The verses were watered down by the publishers, who probably regarded them as too crude for a Victorian public. The original is as follows :— " Our joy is like a narrow raft Afloat upon the hungry sea, Hereon is but a little space, And all men eager for a place Do thrust each other in the sea.
And each plan eager for a place Doth thrust his brother in the sea.
And so our joy is wan with fears, And so the sea is salt with tears- Ah well is thee! -thou art asleep.
Our life is like a curious play Where each man hideth from himself.
'Let us be open as the day,' One mask doth to the other say, When he would better hide himself.
'Let us be open as the day,' That he may deeper hide himself.
Twist man and man a lie is crowned. Twixt man and God a lie is found. And so the world goes round and round- Ah well is thee! thou art asleep."
The verses were written by the wife of the composer.—I am, Sir,
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