He grounded on the common beach,

 He trod the little towns of men,

 And God removèd from his reach

 The cup of Heaven’s passion then,

 And gave him vulgar love and speech,

 And gave him threescore years and ten.

TRUE PROMISES

You promised War and Thunder and Romance.

You promised true, but we were very blind

And very young, and in our ignorance

We never called to mind

That truth is seldom kind.

You promised love, immortal as a star.

You promised true, yet how the truth can lie!

For now we grope for hands where no hands are,

And, deathless, still we cry,

Nor hope for a reply.

You promised harvest and a perfect yield.

You promised true, for on the harvest morn,

Behold a reaper strode across the field,

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