“Aurora,” sang Mr. Lavender, in that most dolorous voice,
“Aurora, my heart
For I know well it will not burn,
Oh! when the leaves puff out in Spring
And when the leaves in Autumn turn
Think, think of me!
Aurora, I pass away!
Upon my horse of air I ride;
Here let my grizzled ashes stay,
But take, ah! take my heart inside!
At this moment, just as a fit of the most uncontrollable laughter was about to seize her, she saw a flame which had just consumed the word Horatio reach Mr. Lavender’s right calf.
“Oh!” he cried out in desperate tones, stretching up his arms to the sky. “Now is my hour come! Sweet-sky, open and let me see her face! Behold! behold her with the eyes of faith. It is enough. Courage, brother; let me now consume in silence!” So saying, he folded his arm tightly across his breast and closed his lips. The flame rising to the bottom of the weekly which had indeed been upside down, here nipped him vigorously, so that with a wholly unconscious movement he threw up his little legs, and, losing his balance, fell backwards into the arms of Aurora, watchfully outstretched to receive him. Uplifted there, close to that soft blue bosom away from the reek of the flame, he conceived that he was consumed and had passed already from his night of ghosts and shadows into the arms of the morning, and through his swooning lips came forth the words:
“I am in Paradise.”
by John Galsworthy
“Life calls the tune, we dance.”
THE FIRST AND LAST THE FIRST AND LAST
A STOIC A STOIC
THE APPLE TREE THE APPLE TREE
THE JURYMAN THE JURYMAN
Indian summer of A Forsyte [Also posted as Etext #2594]