"Methinks it were no pain to die
On such an eve, while such a sky
O'ercanopies the west."
And she generally had to hear the whole poem, for I was very fond of
it; though the especial verse that I contrasted with hers was,--
"There's peace and welcome in yon sea
Of endless blue tranquillity;
Those clouds are living things;
I trace their veins of liquid gold,
And see them silently unfold
Their soft and fleecy wings."
Then she would tell me that my nature inclined to quietness and
harmony, while hers asked for motion and splendor. I wondered whether
it really were so. But that huge, creaking framework beside us would
continually intrude upon our meditations and break up our discussions,
and silence all poetry for us with its dull prose.
Emilie found more profitable work elsewhere, and I found some that was
less so, but far more satisfactory, as it would give me the openings of
leisure which I craved.