"Yes, give me the Keats," said Mr. Bons. "Let him say his Keats to me."
So for a few moments the wise man and the ignorant boy were left alone in the smoking-room.
"'Standing aloof in giant ignorance, of thee I dream and of the Cyclades, as one who sits ashore and longs perchance to visit——'"
"Quite right. To visit what?"
"'To visit dolphin coral in deep seas,'" said the boy, and burst into tears.
"Come, come! why do you cry?"
"Because—because all these words that only rhymed before, now that I've come back they're me."
Mr. Bons laid the Keats down. The case was more interesting than he had expected. "You?" he exclaimed, "This sonnet, you?"
"Yes—and look further on: 'Aye, on the shores of darkness there is light, and precipices show untrodden green.' It is so, sir. All these things are true."
"I never doubted it," said Mr. Bons, with closed eyes.