The Three Hills, and Other Poems
single goal must come;

Though a man search far and wide, never

is hunger satisfied;

meshed and the wise are dumb.

of a mortal tongue,

sweet are the songs unsung,

Never yet was cause for regret, yet regret

must afflict us all,

which this world is a curtain flung.

The rifted western heaven yields

Mute at her window sits the soul.

"Come conquer me and take thy toll."

Blue moonlight bars the drive;

Sit smoking and alive.

Like ocean on a beach;

A thought I cannot reach.

Came to the man where he lay;

And the dawn was grey.

And the watchers by the bed

That the man was dead.


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