Two Ways of Love.
46
For, royal as her beauty is the sweet
White fabric of her soul, and richer far,
Though heiress of her millions, is her heart
In generosity, and kindliness.
"What can he do but love her, being made
Of just such steel as such sweet magnets draw?
He cannot choose but love her. Who am I
That he should think of me? Nellie, gay
And laughter-loving, not of stature fit
To mate with such as Phillip. Ay! for me
The little things of life, the worthy thoughts
Of some respectable and harmless youth,
The petty cares of home, the level path
Of blameless mediocrity. But! listen, God!
I cannot bear it!
Give me something else
To kill me quicker—
White fabric of her soul, and richer far,
Though heiress of her millions, is her heart
In generosity, and kindliness.
"What can he do but love her, being made
Of just such steel as such sweet magnets draw?
He cannot choose but love her. Who am I
That he should think of me? Nellie, gay
And laughter-loving, not of stature fit
To mate with such as Phillip. Ay! for me
The little things of life, the worthy thoughts
Of some respectable and harmless youth,
The petty cares of home, the level path
Of blameless mediocrity. But! listen, God!
I cannot bear it!
Give me something else
To kill me quicker—
[Enter Tom.]
Tom—
Ah! Nellie! Come, 'tis late, and you are pale
For all your triumphs. I have watched you, witch!
And seen you pull the strings of all your beaux.
A handful at a time. Such impudence
In little girls, who should be safe asleep.
Ah! Nellie! Come, 'tis late, and you are pale
For all your triumphs. I have watched you, witch!
And seen you pull the strings of all your beaux.
A handful at a time. Such impudence
In little girls, who should be safe asleep.
