Отрывок

Shattered Dreams

[The British Medical Journal says that men of Genius are never happy in their married lives]

I thought, dear DORIS, we should be
Extremely happy if we married;
I deemed that you were made for me,
But oh! I’m thankful now we tarried
Had we been wedded last July
(I caught the measles so we waited)
We’d now be wretched, you and I;
A genius always is ill-fated.

We might have lived without a hitch
Till one or both of us were “taken,”
And even won the Dunmow flitch
Of appetising breakfast bacon;
We might have passed our married life
In quite the Joan and Darby fashion,
Free from the slightest taint of strife,——
Had I not written “Songs of Passion.”

Ah me, that book! The truth will out;
Genius is rampant in each sonnet;
Consult, if you’re inclined to doubt,
The verdict of the Press upon it.
The Pigbury Patriot calls them “staves
Which we feel justified in praising;”
The Mudford Daily Argus raves;
The Sloshly Clarion says “Amazing!”

So, DORIS, it can never be:
I trust the tidings won’t upset you;
Reluctantly I set you free,
Though ne’er, I vow, will I forget you.
Some other man your hand may win;
I’ll strive to bear it with composure;
Your letters you will find within;
Yours truly,

Edwin Jones. (Enclosure)