The lines run as follows:

"Behold, the puny Child of Man
Sits by Time's boundless sea,
And gathers in his feeble hand
Drops of Eternity.

"He overhears some broken words
Of whispered mystery
He writes them in a tiny book
And calls it 'History!'

"We owe these verses to an accomplished friend; another has amplified the
idea by adding the two that follow:

"If indeed the puny Child of Man
Had not gathered drops from that wide sea,
Those small deeds that fill his little span
Had been lost in dumb Eternity.

"Feeble is his hand, and yet it dare
Seize some drops of that perennial stream;
As they fall they catch a transient gleam--
Lo! Eternity is mirrored there!

"What are we all but puny children? And those of us who gather up the
drops surely deserve our esteem no less than those who spend their lives
on the shore of that great ocean in mere play and strife--"

"And love," threw in Eulaeus in a low voice, as he glanced towards