Thus would I talk, and trouble Elbert much,
For he would rouse me in his rattling way:
“Why, Norman, you are hedging all our hopes.
Do not you pity moods that dote on you?
If, man, your metaphysics be not yet
Beyond all physics, pray you, cure yourself;
Be more material; or material powers
Will alienated grow, and so forget
And count you out in all their reckonings;
And you who are of earth, will earth own not;
And you who would be heaven’s, will heaven own not.
To own yourself and only own yourself,
Is worse than serfdom that has earn’d a smile,
Though but from wrinkling cheeks of sham good-will.”