Has rooted us as well as these,

Not long from her we live apart;

We draw upon a lengthening string,

For months perhaps, perhaps for years,

And plume ourselves that we are free,

And then—we hear a robin sing

Where starving grass shows stunted spears,

Or haycart moving fragrantly

Where creaking tavern sign-boards swing;

Then closer, tighter draws the chain,

The man, too old and worn for tears,

Goes back to be a child again.

IV

THE greed that took us prisoner

T

First led our steps away from her;

For lust of gold we gave up life,

And sank heart-deep in worldly strife.

And when Success—belovèd name—

At last with faltering footsteps came,

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