‘Beguiling laughter and old song
Of merry maids and men’—
Good line—I suppose New Moon is full of ghosts. ‘Death’s fell minion well fulfilled its part’—that might have passed in Addison’s day but not now—not now, Emily—
‘Your azure dimples are the graves
Where million buried sunbeams play’—
Atrocious, girl—atrocious. Graves aren’t playgrounds. How much would you play if you were buried?”
Emily writhed and blushed again. Why couldn’t she have seen that herself? Any goose could have seen it.
“‘Sail onward, ships—white wings, sail on,
Till past the horizon’s purple bar