Читать книгу The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 05, March, 1858 - Various - Страница 18

  Oh, 'tisn't manly, of course, 'tisn't manly, this method of wooing;

  'Tisn't the way very likely to win. For the woman, they tell you,

  Ever prefers the audacious, the wilful, the vehement hero;

  She has no heart for the timid, the sensitive soul; and for knowledge,—

  Knowledge, O ye gods!—when did they appreciate knowledge?

  Wherefore should they, either? I am sure I do not desire it.

  Ah, and I feel too, Eustace, she cares not a tittle about me!

  (Care about me, indeed! and do I really expect it?)

  But my manner offends; my ways are wholly repugnant;

  Every word that I utter estranges, hurts, and repels her;

  Every moment of bliss that I gain, in her exquisite presence,

  Slowly, surely, withdraws her, removes her, and severs her from me.

  Not that I care very much!—any way, I escape from the boy's own

  Folly, to which I am prone, of loving where it is easy.

  Yet, after all, my Eustace, I know but little about it.

  All I can say for myself, for present alike and for past, is,

  Mary Trevellyn, Eustace, is certainly worth your acquaintance.

  You couldn't come, I suppose, as far as Florence, to see her?