I just finished reading Persuasion by Jane Austin
for the manyeth time. I was out of sorts from
reading (sometimes just skimming) too many random
books from the library shelves. I needed a dose of
elegant minds and sane conversations.
I also am in the midst of a three day headache and
so between those two happenings (Persuasion and the
headache) imagine my delight when yesterday I found
this at Buried Treasure Books (along with some verses
about Jane Austin by authors Chesterton and Kipling).
When Stretch’d on One’s Bed
by Jane Austen
When stretch’d on one’s bed
With a fierce-throbbing head,
Which precludes alike thought or repose,
How little one cares
For the grandest affairs
That may busy the world as it goes!
How little one feels
For the waltzes and reels
Of our Dance-loving friends at a Ball!
How slight one’s concern
To conjecture or learn
What their flounces or hearts may befall.
How little one minds
If a company dines
On the best that the Season affords!
How short is one’s muse
O’er the Sauces and Stews,
Or the Guests, be they Beggars or Lords.
How little the Bells,
Ring they Peels, toll they Knells,
Can attract our attention or Ears!
The Bride may be married,
The Corse may be carried
And touch nor our hopes nor our fears.
Our own bodily pains
Ev’ry faculty chains;
We can feel on no subject besides.
Tis in health and in ease
We the power must seize
For our friends and our souls to provide.