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Not from a heart at ease Bled this pure passion.Honor he served the while Loud tongues decried him,Beauty the more because Much was denied him;Pan in the darkness laid Paths for his roaming,Thorn-branch and rue were cut For his home-coming.
IIILifeblood and spirit-fire Went to its making:Who knows what planet ruled At its awaking?Plenty may starve a soul, Dearth feed another,Joy bring to one the gift Grief gives his brother;One finds a Calvary In Eden-places,One builds all beauty from Beauty's faint traces . . . .Weal-star or bale-star may Pilot the roaming,Yet will a singer's heart Sing at home-coming.
Mrs. Schuyler Van RensselaerThe North American Review

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