Читать книгу Towards the Last Spike - E. J. Pratt - Страница 8

Table of Contents

Of all the subjects for debate here was

His element. His soul as clean as surf,

No one could equal him in probing cupboards

Or sweeping floors and dusting shelves, finding

A skeleton inside an overcoat;

Or shaking golden eagles from a pocket

To show the copper plugs within the coins.

Rumours he heard had gangrened into facts—

Gifts nuzzling at two-hundred-thousand dollars,

Elections on, and with a contract pending.

The odour of the bills had blown his gorge.

His appetite, edged by a moral hone,

Could surfeit only on the Verities.