If memory's painful twinges were forgot.
I sought, as many other men have done,
Within the wilderness,—oblivion.
Work is the only sure iconoclast
For the unpleasant memories of the past;
So as a placer miner, prospector,
And half a dozen avocations more,
Within the city, and the solitude,
The star-eyed Goddess of Success I wooed.
Twice was I numbered with the men of wealth,