Black Beetles in Amber - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 85

BATS IN SUNSHINE

Well, Mr. Kemble, you are called, I think, A great divine, and I'm a great profane.You as a Congregationalist blink Some certain truths that I esteem a gain, And drop them in the coffers of my brain,Pleased with the pretty music of their chink.Perhaps your spiritual wealth is suchA golden truth or two don't count for much.You say that you've no patience with such stuff As by Rénan is writ, and when you read(Why do you read?) have hardly strength enough To hold your hand from flinging the vile screed Into the fire. That were a wasteful deedWhich you'd repent in sackcloth extra rough;For books cost money, and I'm told you careTo lay up treasures Here as well as There.I fear, good, pious soul, that you mistake Your thrift for toleration. Never mind:Rénan in any case would hardly break His great, strong, charitable heart to find The bats and owls of your myopic kindPained by the light that his ideas make.'Tis Truth's best purpose to shine in at holesWhere cower the Kembles, to confound their souls!