Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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“You would keep Him straight with science, tho He had gone wrong before …”

Well, anyway….

“You met your children in your home—‘I’ve fixed it up!’ you cried,

Took your fifty years of Europe, and then virtuously—died.”

“That was to a great extent Tennyson’s idea,” came the lecturer’s voice. “Swinburne’s Song in the Time of Order might well have been Tennyson’s title. He idealized order against chaos, against waste.”

At last Amory had it. He turned over another page and scrawled vigorously for the twenty minutes that was left of the hour. Then he walked up to the desk and deposited a page torn out of his note-book.

“Here’s a poem to the Victorians, sir,” he said coldly.

The professor picked it up curiously while Amory backed rapidly through the door.

Here is what he had written:

“Songs in the time of order

You left for us to sing,

Proofs with excluded middles,

Answers to life in rhyme,

Keys of the prison warder

And ancient bells to ring,

Time was the end of riddles,

We were the end of time …