There is no Cock for such Peters, damn 'em! I am glad this aspiration
came upon the red-ink line. [2] It is more of a bloody curse. I have
delivered over your other presents to Alsager and G. Dyer, A., I am
sure, will value it and be proud of the hand from which it came. To G.D.
a poem is a poem,--his own as good as anybody's, and, God bless him!
anybody's as good as his own; for I do not think he has the most distant
guess of the possibility of one poem being better than another. The
gods, by denying him the very faculty itself of discrimination, have
effectually cut off every seed of envy in his bosom. But with envy they
excited curiosity also; and if you wish the copy again, which you
destined for him, I think I shall be able to find it again for you on
his third shelf, where he stuffs his presentation copies, uncut, in
shape and matter resembling a lump of dry dust; but on carefully
removing that stratum, a thing like a pamphlet will emerge. I have tried
this with fifty different poetical works that have been given G.D. in
return for as many of his own performances; and I confess I never had
any scruple in taking _my own_ again, wherever I found it, shaking the
adherences off; and by this means one copy of 'my works' served for
G.D.,--and, with a little dusting, was made over to my good friend Dr.
Geddes, who little thought whose leavings he was taking when he made me
that graceful bow.
Pages:
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247