I dare aver He is a brave discoverer Of climes his elders do not know. He has more learning than appears On the scroll of twice three thousand years. - Edmund Clarence Stedman

The lady to her knightly guest's salute
⁠Turned her face full, so that he marked her eyes, — How dewy gray beneath each long, black lid,
And danger somewhere in their light lay hid.

There are some natures housed so chaste within
⁠Their placid dwellings that their heads control
The tumult of their hearts; and thus they win
⁠A quittance from this pleading of the soul
For Love, whose service does so wound and heal;
How should they crave for what they cannot feel?

From passion and from pain enfranchised quite,
⁠Alike from gain and never-stanched Regret,
Calm as the blind who have not seen the light,
⁠The dumb who hear no precious voice; and yet
The sun forever pours his lambent fire
And the high winds are vocal with desire.

Hopeless of all he dared to hope so long, The music born within him dies away; Even the song he loved becomes a pain, Full-freighted with a yearning all in vain.

The year of jubilee has come; Gather the gifts of Earth with equal hand; Henceforth ye too may share the birthright soil, The corn, the wine, and all the harvest-home.