This page has been validated.
236
THE SONG OF PENITENCE.
UNFINISHED.
He pass'd from earth
Without his fame,—the calm, pure, starry fame
He might have won, to guide on radiantly
Full many a noble soul,—he sought it not;
And e'en like brief and barren lightning pass'd
The wayward child of genius. And the songs
Which his wild spirit, in the pride of life,
Had shower'd forth recklessly, as ocean-waves
Fling up their treasures mingled with dark weed,
They died before him;—they were winged seed,
Scattered afar, and, falling on the rock
Of the world's heart, had perished. One alone,
One fervent, mournful, supplicating strain,
