With as glorious a foresight, a balance as true, 'But now, on the poet's dis-privacied moods As swung out the worlds in the in- | With do this and do that the pert finite blue; critic intrudes; Then a glory and greatness in- While he thinks he 's been barely vested man's heart, fulfilling his duty 1770 The universal, which now stands To interpret 'twixt men and their estranged and apart, In the free individual moulded, was Art; own sense of beauty, And has striven, while others sought honor or pelf, Then the forms of the Artist To make his kind happy as he And, inviting the world to see pun- And, seeing the place getting rap idly cleared, ishment done, Hangs himself up to bleach in the I too snatched my notes and forthwind and the sun; with disappeared. Now Knott had quite made up his Just at this time the Public's eyes mind 120 Were keenly on the watch, a But she, with many tears and Behind the plastering, made a moans, Besought him not to mock her, Said 't was too much for flesh and bones To marry mortgages and loans, That fathers' hearts were stocks and stones, towse About a family matter, Began to wonder if his wife, A paralytic half her life, Which made it more surprising, Might not, to rule him from her urn, And heard his wife, with well- But still his flesh would chill and Entering the kitchen through the And, though two night-lamps he They made such mockery of his fears That soon his days were of all jeers, His nights of the rueful countenance; 'I thought most folks,' one neighbor said, 'Gave up the ghost when they were dead?' Another gravely shook his head, Adding, From all we hear, it's Quite plain poor Knott is going mad For how can he at once be sad 230 And think he 's full of spirits?' A third declared he knew a knife Would cut this Knott much quicker, The surest way to end all strife, And lay the spirit of a wife, Is just to take and lick her!' A temperance man caught up the word, Or setting back last evening's Ah yes,' he groaned, 'I've always |