All Life in a Life
And with their love would have enfolded him;
But even at ten years old he had a way
Of gazing at you with a look austere
Which gave his kin-folk fear.
He had no child-like love for father or mother,
Sister or brother;
They were the same to him as any other.
He was a little cold, a little queer.
His father was a laborer and now
They made the boy work for his daily bread.
They say he read
A book or two during these years of work,
But if there was a secret
Between the pages under the light of his brow
It came forth. And if he had a woman
In love or out of love, or a companion or a chum,
History is dumb.
So far as we know he dreamed and worked with hands,
And learned to know his genius's commands—
Or what is called one's daemon.
And this became at last the city's call.
He had now reached the age of thirty sears,
And found a Dream of Life and a solution
For slavery of soul and even all
Miseries that flow from things material.
To free the world was his soul's resolution.
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