the Eternal Question
THE ETERNAL QUESTION
She was just a child, really,
A girl of sixteen,
when Stanford White took her
in a champagne fueled dream.
White was an architect of great renown,
He had designed the Garden at Madison Square.
He had designs on this chorus girl now,
whose raven haired beauty drew many men’s stares.
He had dined her and wined her
They had toasts with Champagne
On a red velvet swing
In his quarters they played.
In a room full of mirrors
A virgin lay down
When she awoke the next morning
No virgin was found.
It was Evelyn Nesbit’s fate
To be seen as a pawn or a prize.
Harry Thaw sought her in marriage
To take her from a man he despised.
Stanford White was wealthy, urbane,
and had his pick of life’s pleasures
Harry K Thaw was a wastrel and strange,
living off of his Father’s massed treasures.
White and Thaw had competed
for Evelyn’s affections.
White won, then soon lost interest.
Poor Evelyn lost his protection.
Thaw was an addict and deviant
He injected himself with cocaine.
He enjoyed whipping girls and sometimes young boys
with his riding whip or his cane.
He’d pursued Evelyn Nesbit for years
She’d denied all of his advances
Then her forced her and whipped her and beat her
It was one of life’s stranger romances.
He soon learned that the girl he had married
was no demure and virginal bride.
He learned that his rival, Stanford White
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