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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355256" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Text</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">One Sunday eve a grave old man,<br>Who had not been at church, did say,<br>'Eliza, tell me, if you can,<br>What text our Doctor took to-day?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She hung her head, she blushed for shame,<br>One single word she did not know,<br>Nor verse nor chapter she could name,<br>Her silent blushes told him so.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Again said he, 'My little maid,<br>What in the sermon did you hear?<br>Come tell me that, for that may aid<br>Me to find out the text, my dear.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A tear stole down each blushing cheek,<br>She wished she better had attended;<br>She sobbing said, when she could speak,<br>She heard not till 'twas almost ended.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ah! little heedless one, why what<br>Could you be thinking on? 'tis clear<br>Some foolish fancies must have got<br>Possession of your head, my dear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'What thoughts were they, Eliza, tell,<br>Nor seek from me the truth to smother.'-<br>'O I remember very well,<br>I whispered something to my brother.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I said, 'Be friends with me, dear Will;'<br>We quarrelled, sir, at the church door,-<br>Though he cried, 'Hush, don't speak, be still,'<br>Yet I repeated these words o'er</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Seven or eight times, I have no doubt.<br>But here comes William, and if he<br>The good things he has heard about<br>Forgets too, sir, the fault's in me.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'No, sir,' said William, 'though perplext<br>And much disturbed by my sister,<br>I in this matter of the text,<br>I thank my memory, can assist her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I have, and pride myself on having,<br>A more retentive head than she.'-<br>Then gracefully his right hand waving,<br>He with no little vanity</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Recited gospel, chapter, verse-<br>I should be loth to spoil in metre<br>All the good words he did rehearse,<br>As spoken by our Lord to Peter.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But surely never words from heaven<br>Of peace and love more full descended;<br>That we should seventy times seven<br>Forgive our brother that offended.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In every point of view he placed it,<br>As he the Doctor's self had been,<br>With emphasis and action graced it:<br>But from his self-conceit 'twas seen</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who had brought home the words, and who had<br>A little on the meaning thought;<br>Eliza now the old man knew had<br>Learned that which William never caught.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Without impeaching William's merit,<br>His head but served him for the letter;<br>Hers missed the words, but kept the spirit;<br>Her memory to her heart was debtor.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Lamb">Charles Lamb</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355256" data-title="The Text de Charles Lamb" data-description="One Sunday eve a grave old man,
Who had not been at church, did say,
'Eliza, tell me, if you can,
What text our Doctor took to-day?'

She hung her head, she blushed for shame,
One single word she did not know,
Nor verse nor chapter she could name,..."></div>
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