When youth was lord of my unchallenged fate,
And time seemed but the vassal of my will,
I entertainëd certain guests of state—
The great of older days, who, faithful still,
Have kept with me the pact my youth had made.

And I remember how one galleon rare...

This is a breath of summer wind
  That comes—we know not how—that goes
As softly,—leaving us behind,
  Pleased with a smell of vine and rose.

Poet, shall this be all thy word?
  Blow on us with a bolder breeze,
Until we rise, as having heard...