gave, Then hid his treasures in the grave."      And proud that they alone on earth Perceived what might have been his worth, They would have kept their leader's name Linked with a fragmentary fame. Forsooth the beech's knotless stem, If early felled, were dear to them. But the fair tree lives on, and spreads Its scatheless boughs above their heads, And they are pollarded by cares, And give themselves religious airs, And grow not, whilst the forest-king Strikes high and deep from spring to spring. So they would have his branches rise In theoretic symmetries; They see a twist in yonder limb, The foliage not precisely trim; Some gnarled roughness they lament, Take credit for their discontent, And count his flaws, serenely wise With motes of pity in their eyes; As if they could, the prudent fools, Adjust such live-long growth to rules, As if so strong a soul could thrive Fixed in one shape at thirty-five. Leave him to us, ye good and sage, Who stiffen in your middle age. Ye loved him once, but now forbear; Yield him to those who hope and dare, And have not yet to forms consigned A rigid, ossifying mind. One's feelings lose poetic flow Soon after twenty-seven or so; Professionizing moral men Thenceforth admire what pleased them then; The poems bought in youth they read, And say them over like their creed. All autumn crops of rhyme seem strange; Their intellect resents the change. They cannot follow to the end Their more susceptive college-friend:      He runs from field to field, and they Stroll in their paddocks making hay:      He's ever young, and they get old; Poor things, they deem him over-bold:      What wonder, if they stare and scold? 

  

       A SONG     

      i. Oh, earlier shall the rosebuds blow, In after years, those happier years, And children weep, when we lie low, Far fewer tears, far softer tears. ii. Oh, true shall boyish laughter ring, Like tinkling chimes in kinder times! And merrier shall the maiden sing:      And I not there, and I not there. iii. Like lightning in the summer night Their mirth shall be, so quick and free; And oh! the flash of their delight I shall not see, I may not see. iv. In deeper dream, with wider range, Those eyes shall shine, but not on mine:      Unmoved, unblest, by worldly change, The dead must rest, the dead shall rest. 

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