The twilight that surrounds the border-land of old romance.
People demand freedom only when they have no power.
Through woods and mountain passes The winds, like anthems, roll.
So Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest.
Many a poem is marred by a superfluous verse.
It is curious to note the old sea-margins of human thought! Each subsiding century reveals some new mystery; we build where monsters used to hide themselves.