Читать книгу Reveries of a Bachelor; or, A Book of the Heart онлайн

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He hums old sonnets, and snatches of poor Jonson’s plays. He chants Dryden’s odes, and dwells on Otway’s rhyme. He reasons with Bolingbroke or Diogenes as the humor takes him, and laughs at the world, for the world, thank Heaven, has left him alone!

Keep your money, old misers, and your palaces, old princes—the world is mine!

I care not, fortune, what you me deny.

You cannot rob me of free nature’s grace,

You cannot shut the windows of the sky;

You cannot bar my constant feet to trace

The woods and lawns, by living streams, at eve,

Let health, my nerves and finer fibers brace,

And I, their toys, to the great children, leave.

Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can we bereave!

But—if not alone?

If she is clinging to you for support, for consolation, for home, for life—she, reared in luxury, perhaps, is faint for bread?

Then the iron enters the soul; then the nights darken under any skylight. Then the days grow long, even in the solstice of winter.

She may not complain; what then?

Will your heart grow strong, if the strength of her love can dam up the fountains of tears, and the tied tongue not tell of bereavement? Will it solace you to find her parting the poor treasure of food you have stolen for her, with begging, foodless children?