Page:Preludes, Meynell, 1875.djvu/95

 THE POET TO HIS CHILDHOOD.

my thought I see you stand with a path on either hand,

—Hills that look into the sun, and there a river'd meadow-land.

And your lost voice with the things that it decreed across me thrills,

When you thought, and chose the hills.

"If it prove a life of pain, greater have I judged the gain.

With a singing soul for music's sake, I climb and meet the rain,

And I choose, whilst I am calm, my thought and labouring to be

Unconsoled by sympathy."