 | The white sail and other poems |  |
118
AN AUDITOR.
Why chide me that mutely I listen, ah, jester?For either thou knowest
Too much, or thou knowest not aught of this aching vexed planet down-whirling:
Thou knowest?—Thy wit is but fortitude; would'st have me laugh in its presence?
Thou knowest not?—Laugh I can never, for innocence also is sacred.
| The white sail and other poems | |