Note 66 — THE PLAIN SPEAKER (continued 11)

‘Out on the craft—I’d rather be

One of those hinds that round me tread,

With just enough of sense to see

The noon-day sun that’s o’er my head,

Than thus with high-built genius curs’d,

That hath no heart for its foundation,

Be all at once that’s brightest—worst—

Sublimest—meanest in creation.’

Rhymes on the Road.