Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new, That which they have done but earnest of the things which they shall do.

How many a father have I seen, A sober man, among his boys, Whose youth was full of foolish noise.

O love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.

Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills. Like footsteps upon wool.

I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.

Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.

We cannot be kind to each other here for even an hour. We whisper, and hint, and chuckle and grin at our brother's shame; however you take it we men are a little breed.