Page 404

From FinnegansWiki
Revision as of 15:34, 30 March 2014 by Jhem (talk | contribs)
Jump to navigationJump to search

TOC

Page 403 Page 405

gleam darkling adown surface of affluvial flowandflow as again
might seem garments of laundry reposing a leasward close at
hand in full expectation. And as I was jogging along in a dream as
dozing I was dawdling, arrah, methought broadtone was heard and
the creepers and the gliders and flivvers of the earth breath and
the dancetongues of the woodfires and the hummers in their
ground all vociferated echoating: Shaun! Shaun! Post the post!
with a high voice and O, the higher on high the deeper and low,
I heard him so! And lo, mescemed somewhat came of the noise
and somewho might amove allmurk. Now, 'twas as clump, now
mayhap. When look, was light and now 'twas as flasher, now
moren as the glaow. Ah, in unlitness 'twas in very similitude,
bless me, 'twas his belted lamp! Whom we dreamt was a shaddo,
sure, he's lightseyes, the laddo! Blessed momence, O romence,
he's growing to stay! Ay, he who so swayed a will of a wisp
before me, hand prop to hand, prompt side to the pros, dressed
like an earl in just the correct wear, in a classy mac Frieze o'coat
of far suparior ruggedness, indigo braw, tracked and tramped,
and an Irish ferrier collar, freeswinging with mereswin lacers from
his shoulthern and thick welted brogues on him hammered to suit
the scotsmost public and climate, iron heels and sparable soles, and
his jacket of providence wellprovided woolies with a softrolling
lisp of a lapel to it and great sealingwax buttons, a good helping
bigger than the slots for them, of twentytwo carrot krasnapopp-
sky red and his invulnerable burlap whiskcoat and his popular
choker, Tamagnum sette-and-forte and his loud boheem toy and
the damasker's overshirt he sported inside, a starspangled zephyr
with a decidedly surpliced crinklydoodle front with his motto
through dear life embrothred over it in peas, rice, and yeggy-
yolk, Or for royal, Am for Mail, R.M.D. hard cash on the nail
and the most successfully carried gigot turnups now you ever,
(what a pairfact crease! how amsolookly kersse!) breaking over
the ankle and hugging the shoeheel, everything the best    none
other from (Ah, then may the turtle's blessings of God and Mary
and Haggispatrick and Huggisbrigid be souptumbling all over
him!) other than (and may his hundred thousand welcome stewed