Page:Songs and Sonnets (1906).djvu/23

Rh

But always, always, something pressed
 * Between him and his aim;

He kept his dream, but gave the rest
 * To meet the common claim.

He ploughed the black and fertile plain,
 * And sowed the waiting soil,

And harvested the yellow grain,
 * And spent his days in toil;

Nor failed to give a helping hand
 * When others stood in need;

But strove to meet each new demand
 * With patient word and deed.

So went the seasons. Wrapped in mist
 * The mountains, blue and gold,

Behind their veils of amethyst
 * Still wait, but—he is old!