DOWN the long road bent and brown,
Youth, that dearly loves a vision,
Ventures to the gates Elysian,
As a palmer from the town,
Coming not so late, so far,
Rocks and birches! for your story,
Nor to prate of vanished glory
Where of old was quenched a star;
Where, of old, in lapse of toil,
Time, that has for weeds a dower,
Bade the supersensual flower
Starve in our New England soil.
But to Youth, whose radiant eyes
Shatter mists of grief and daunting,
Lost glad voices still are chanting
’Neath those unremaining skies;
Still the dreams of fellowship
Beat their wings of aspiration;
And a smile of soft elation
Trembles from his haughty lip,
If another dare deride
Hopes heroic snapped and parted,
Disillusion so high-hearted,
All success is mean beside!