• One sat within a hung and lighted room—
    A little shape, with face between his wings,
    And in the light made of all golden things
    He seemed a warm and living rose abloom;
    And one without sobbed in the night and gloom,
    And all about him was a pilgrim’s weed,
    His little hands and cold he held for meed
    Of his long waiting, sad as by a tomb:...

  • From the Latin by Charles Abraham Elton
    YES,—I am poor, Callistratus! I own;
    And so was ever; yet not quite unknown,
    Graced with a knight’s degree; nor this alone:
    But through the world my verse is often sung;
    And “That is he!” sounds buzzed from every tongue;
    And what to few, when dust, the Fates assign,
    In bloom and freshness of my days...

  • Your Riches — taught me — Poverty.

    Myself — a Millionaire

    In little Wealths, as Girls could boast

    Till broad as Buenos Ayre —


    You drifted your Dominions —

    A Different Peru —

    And I esteemed All Poverty

    For Life's Estate with you —


    Of Mines, I little know — myself —...