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A LIGHT MAN
And I—what I seem to my friend, you see
What I soon shall seem to his love, you guess.
What I seem to myself, do you ask of me?
No hero, I confess.
A Light Woman. Browning's Men and Women.
What I soon shall seem to his love, you guess.
What I seem to myself, do you ask of me?
No hero, I confess.
A Light Woman. Browning's Men and Women.
April 4, 1857.—I have changed my sky without changing my mind. I resume these old notes in a new world. I hardly know of what use they are; but it's easier to preserve the habit than to break it. I have been at home now a week—at home, forsooth! And yet after all, it is home. I'm dejected, I'm bored, I'm blue. How can a man be more at home than that? Nevertheless, I'm the citizen of a great country, and for that matter, of a great city. I walked to-day some ten miles or so along Broadway, and on the whole I don't blush for my native land. We're a capable race and a good-looking withal; and I don't see why we shouldn't prosper as well as another. This, by the way, ought to be a very encouraging reflection.
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