IX
Claude to Eustace
Yet it is pleasant, I own it, to be in their company; pleasant,Whatever else it may be, to abide in the feminine presence.Pleasant, but wrong, will you say? But this happy, serene coexistenceIs to some poor soft souls, I fear, a necessity simple,Meat and drink and life, and music, filling with sweetness,Thrilling with melody sweet, with harmonies strange overwhelming,All the long-silent strings of an awkward, meaningless fabric.Yet as for that, I could live, I believe, with children; to have thosePure and delicate forms encompassing, moving about you,This were enough, I could think; and truly with glad resignationCould from the dream of Romance, from the fever of flushed adolescence,Look to escape and subside into peaceful avuncular functions.Nephews and nieces! alas, for as yet I have none! and, moreover,Mothers are jealous, I fear me, too often, too rightfully; fathersThink they have title exclusive to spoiling their own little darlings;And by the law of the land, in despite of Malthusian doctrine,No sort of proper provision is made for that most patriotic,Most meritorious subject, the childless and bachelor uncle.