the virgin grape-juice becomes a vitriolic thing: a defluent purple river crushing one's helpless spirit among its rocks and rapids.
—a terrible American, William Jennings Bryan. He is for 'peace at any price.' There were some, long and long ago, who suffered and endured one starveling winter in camp at Valley Forge that William Jennings Bryan might wax Nebraskanly fat: and he is valiantly for peace: at any price—
For that my Laughter is tinged with fulfilling hatred.
Rich hot-livered Laughter must have in it essential love or hatred.
To William Jennings Bryan everything he has done in his political career must seem all right.
It is all right, undoubtedly. Just that.
—that Silver-tongued Boy Orator
those Yodlers
that Peerless Leader
that Grape-juice—
They come breaking into my melancholy night-hours with an odd high-seasoned abruptness.
I wonder what God thinks of him.
It might be God thinks well of him.
But I—in my black dress and my still room—I say inwardly and willy-nilly, and with all my Heart and relishingly:
Ha! ha! ha!
