WITHOUT AND WITHIN.
101
Shoot past, but something o'er my soul a summer feeling sends,
That brings my good old kinsman back, and all my boyhood's friends.
That brings my good old kinsman back, and all my boyhood's friends.
One still is left—the friend that fought my battles out at school;
Now would he fight them with the world, if ever it should cool
To verse of mine—yes, inch by inch contending: not a line
He reads, but takes them all on trust,—content that they are mine.
Now would he fight them with the world, if ever it should cool
To verse of mine—yes, inch by inch contending: not a line
He reads, but takes them all on trust,—content that they are mine.
Now have I made me store of friends, the kindred of my mind;
They give unto me of their wealth, I pay them back in kind:
The world needs music at its feasts, it bids me welcome free;
It loves me for the songs I sing, but these loved my songs for me!
They give unto me of their wealth, I pay them back in kind:
The world needs music at its feasts, it bids me welcome free;
It loves me for the songs I sing, but these loved my songs for me!
And so to such as these my heart flies back, a thing set free;
It craveth more than doth the mind, less cold equality;
Love is the one true leveller below—he bringeth down,
He raiseth up, he sets on all his chosen brows a crown:
It craveth more than doth the mind, less cold equality;
Love is the one true leveller below—he bringeth down,
He raiseth up, he sets on all his chosen brows a crown:
