'And some are sulky, while some will plunge.
_(So ho! Steady! Stand still, you!)_
Some you must gentle, and some you must lunge.
_(There! There! Who wants to kill you?)_
Some--there are losses in every trade--
Will break their hearts ere bitted and made,
Will fight like fiends as the rope cuts hard,
And die dumb-mad in the breaking-yard.'

_Thrown Away._


The World hath set its heavy yoke
Upon the old white-bearded folk
Who strive to please the King.
God's mercy is upon the young,
God's wisdom in the baby tongue
That fears not anything.

_Tod's Amendment._


Not though you die to-night, O Sweet, and wail,
A spectre at my door,
Shall mortal Fear make Love immortal fail--
I shall but love you more,
Who, from Death's House returning, give me still
One moment's comfort in my matchless ill.