Miscellanies 78: Her waters emptied itself through my holed cup
In all truths as I can barely afford it, I am glad that things did not turn out this way, namely that I am not hers, for I could never afford the life fitting for her manners. I am not the adventurer, nay, never the goer but the reflective kind, to sit by springs and muse with flowers and paint with the rainbow. I have none of that beat to go anywhere where the world treads and holds in high pride. I am much too grey, too shy. I prefer much to lay among green pastures, whose delicacy, human foot have forsaken for the harsh concrete. It is therefore to be praised that her waters emptied itself through my holed cup and I drank nothing but air.