’Twas given me long ago,
When the winds had fallen to silence,
And the stars were dim and low.
It lies in an old book faded,
Between the pages white,
But the ages cannot dim the dream
It brings to me to-night!
The localised advantage may be irresistible in its appeal; the personality will not surrender it, no matter what, of greater worth is forgone for its sake, or what possibilities passing by are lost, unglimpsed in the enthralment.
CHAPTER XXV
Badness in Poetry
Il faut dissiper un malentendu: nous sommes pourris d’art!