GULDSTAD
[looks at him, smiles, and shakes his head].
My bold young Falk, reserve a while your mirth.--
There are two ways of founding an estate.
It may be built on credit--drafts long-dated
On pleasure in a never-ending bout,
On perpetuity of youth unbated,
And permanent postponement of the gout.
It may be built on lips of rosy red,
On sparkling eyes and locks of flowing gold,
On trust these glories never will be shed,
Nor the dread hour of periwigs be tolled.
It may be built on thoughts that glow and quiver,--
Flowers blowing in the sandy wilderness,--
On hearts that, to the end of life, for ever
Throb with the passion of the primal “yes.”
To dealings such as this the world extends
One epithet: ’tis known as “humbug,” friends.