[BNP/E3, 49A2 – 86]

Salisbury and Ultimate.

He’s dead, yet him we know, we man that

Against he weak, being one of the strong

Brought insult. Knowing that ill and wrong

Revolve upon the doer, {…}

Our hands are too much cruel to hurt and long

Justice and Right. He who on Justice harms

May conquer, for this conquers of strong arms

And but the just in the world evil throws

Yet aught of ill remains ill he who spit

To heaven receiveth back up his fame

The soil insult be to heaven thrown:

Thus you, dead, statemen, he who justice hists

Aside, to conquer, may, hit the disgrace

Mentally come. It will[1] to you.

June 1908

[86v]

I regret not the dead. But for the living

Can regret be, not {…}

For what remains to the best after death[2]?

Rot[3] and a name. Nothing and nothingness.

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I turn Zola aside, Hugo I’ve defeat

Behind the chair and in the sure chair

I give my soul entirely unto thee.

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When shall we voyage. I feel energy

To dream bold things. By nothing we’ll be stopped.

I have been happy which I learned to

He could then but have these strange nor thank thee?

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To Jules Verne

I thank thee, oh thank thee. Even to day

There are no tales as thine to make me read.

In the imagination of swift descend

Of {…} invention I do have my way

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Pleasantly, glad that I from life do stray

Not out dreams unhealthy, such as feed

Upon me often {…}

And on my spirit {…} prey.

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No; and I thank thee. I did fell thy death

Deeply, thou might dream of good things

With them I dream, yet rise in common wings

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Let me again read and again have faith

That the past time {…}

 
[1] will /comes\
[2] death/less\
[3] Rot /Dust\