He was only
A poor philosopher who call'd the mind
Of children a blank page, a tabula rasa.
There, there, is written in invisible inks
'Lust, Prodigality, Covetousness, Craft,
Cowardice, Murder'--and the heat and fire
Of life will bring them out, and black enough,
So the child grow to manhood: better death
With our first wail than life--
Song (further off).
'Till the end o' the daaey
An' the last loaed hoaem,
Load hoaem.'
This bridge again! (Steps on the bridge.)
How often have I stood
With Eva here! The brook among its flowers!
Forget-me-not, meadowsweet, willow-herb.
I had some smattering of science then,
Taught her the learned names, anatomized
The flowers for her--and now I only wish
This pool were deep enough, that I might plunge
And lose myself for ever.
_Enter_ DAN SMITH (_singing_).
Gee oop! whoae! Gee oop! whoae!
Scizzars an' Pumpy was good uns to goae
Thruf slush an' squad
When roaeds was bad,
But hallus ud stop at the Vine-an'-the-Hop,
Fur boaeth on 'em knaw'd as well as mysen
That beer be as good fur 'erses as men.
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