For it had lost its shape and shine, And it had cost him four-and-nine, And he was going out to dine.
“To dine!” she sneered in acid tone. “To bend thy being to a bone Clothed in a radiance not its own!”
The tear-drop trickled to his chin: There was a meaning in her grin That made him feel on fire within.
“Term it not ‘radiance,’” said he: “’Tis solid nutriment to me. Dinner is Dinner: Tea is Tea.”
And she “Yea so? Yet wherefore cease? Let thy scant knowledge find increase. Say ‘Men are Men, and Geese are Geese.’”
He moaned: he knew not what to say. The thought “That I could get away!” Strove with the thought “But I must stay.
“To dine!” she shrieked in dragon-wrath. “To swallow wines all foam and froth! To simper at a table-cloth!
“Say, can thy noble spirit stoop To join the gormandising troup Who find a solace in the soup?
“Canst thou desire or pie or puff? Thy well-bred manners were enough, Without such gross material stuff.”
“Yet well-bred men,” he faintly said, “Are not willing to be fed: Nor are they well without the bread.”
Her visage scorched him ere she spoke: “There are,” she said, “a kind of folk Who have no horror of a joke.
“Such wretches live: they take their share Of common earth and common air: We come across them here and there:
“We grant them—there is no escape— A sort of semi-human shape Suggestive of the man-like Ape.”
“In all such theories,” said he, “One fixed exception there must be. That is, the Present Company.”
Baffled, she gave a wolfish bark: He, aiming blindly in the dark, With random shaft had pierced the mark.
She felt that her defeat was plain, Yet madly strove with might and main To get the upper hand again.
Fixing her eyes upon the beach, As though unconscious of his speech, She said “Each gives to more than each.”
He could not answer yea or nay: He faltered “Gifts may pass away.” Yet knew not what he meant to say.
“If that be so,” she straight replied, “Each heart with each doth coincide. What boots it? For the world is wide.”
[Picture: He faltered “Gifts may pass away”]
“The world is but a Thought,” said he: “The vast unfathomable sea Is but a Notion—unto me.”
And darkly fell her answer dread Upon his unresisting head, Like half a hundredweight of lead.