Embodied life that may be seen and felt.
You doubt me?—Test it.—Read that rhyme you wrote,
Inspired by fancy.—Say so;—still they hint.
‘Ah, this was she, or she, whom once he loved.’
It may be, Grace does waive your love of truth.
If so, ’tis better; more you seem her own.”
“More likely,” cried I, “I and all my truth
Seem like champagne,—a thing that pops and shocks,
But yet enlivens when the hour is dull.”
“She likes the shocking,” said he. “Know you not