"Blank verse is like blank cartridge, sir, suitable for reviews and sham-fights--that is to say, for long-winded epics and rigmaroles about nothing in particular; but not for battle pieces, in which you need clink-clank and rum-ti-tum to achieve truly martial effects."
"I should like to see what you've done, though," said Lawrence.
"Well begun is half done, proverb runs; fallacious and tommy rot, sir. I began well; I will exhibit, commending to you beautiful aphorism of some precious and defunct poet now forgotten, namely, 'We may our ends by our beginnings know.'"
He drew a roll of paper from his pocket, and moving towards the lighted doorway, spread it before their eyes. This is what they read--
ODE
in celebration of gorgeous defence of gorge
by two young English sirs,
who with handful of rude mechanicals,
dauntless breasts
and flying machine, 100 h.p.,
withstood the mights of twenty thousand Mongols.
Written at request of one of aforesaid sirs,
Mr. ROBERT APPLETON, Esquire, etc.,
by
DITTA LAL,
B.A. Calcutta University.
Here the page ended. Lawrence turned over: the back was blank.
"Where's the rest?" he asked.
"There's the rub, sir. The rest is dispersed through many pages of my note-book, high and dry, pearls of poesy, gems of purest ray serene, waiting leisure and a rhyming dictionary to thread them into perfect and resplendent ornament."
"Well, finish it when you have time. You can send it to us, you know."