• His Soul fared forth (as from the deep home-grove
• The father-songster plies the hourlong quest)
• To feed his soul-brood hungering in the nest;
• But his warm Heart, the mother-bird, above
• Their callow fledgling progeny still hove
• With tented roof of wings and fostering breast
• Till the Soul fed the soul-brood. Richly blest
• From Heaven their growth, whose food was Human Love.

• Yet ah! Like desert pools that show the stars
• 10 Once in long leagues,—even such the scarce-snatched hours
• Which deepening pain left to his lordliest powers:—
• Heaven lost through spider-trammelled prison-bars!
• Five years, from seventy saved! Yet kindling skies
• Own them, a beacon to our centuries.