jul 20, 2011
“―Kingstown pier, Stephen said. Yes, a disappointed bridge.
The words troubled their gaze.
―How, sir? Comyn asked. A bridge is across a river.
For Haines’s chapbook. No-one here to hear. Tonight deftly amid wild drink and talk, to
pierce the polished mail of his mind. What then? A jester at the court of his master,
indulged and disesteemed, winning a clement master’s praise. Why had they chosen all
that part? Not wholly for the smooth caress. For them too history was a tale like any other
too often heard, their land a pawnshop.”
Stephen muses on first-rate wit and second-hand history.