POEMS.
89
No more, poor bird, shall such delight
Dazzle thy lofty spirit's flight.
Dazzle thy lofty spirit's flight.
No more the rapture born of strife,
The grandeur of thine early life,
The grandeur of thine early life,
Will cry around thee, for thy fate
Is to be servile to the great!
Is to be servile to the great!
And nought can compensate to thee
Since thou hast lost thy liberty!
Since thou hast lost thy liberty!
MY DOG AND I
YOU laugh, my friends, no matter, since we care
Not for the smile or frown of any man,
On us your words fall just as light as air,
What is't to us, my little black and tan?
Not for the smile or frown of any man,
On us your words fall just as light as air,
What is't to us, my little black and tan?
Some folks grow cold and turn a chilly face
And keep not troth, nor heart warmth fair and sweet,
One tires, and mournfully we learn to trace
This certain change when meeting in the street.
And keep not troth, nor heart warmth fair and sweet,
One tires, and mournfully we learn to trace
This certain change when meeting in the street.
Not so with you, my truest of true friends;
No change you show of feeling any way,
Always the same kind eye upon me bends
And the quick footsteps greet me night and day.
No change you show of feeling any way,
Always the same kind eye upon me bends
And the quick footsteps greet me night and day.
