That crossed my path-way, for his star!
3. All this it tells, and I could trace[269]
The imperfect picture o’er again,
With power to add, retouch,[270] efface[271]
The lights and shades, the joy and pain,
How little of the past would stay!
How quickly all should melt away,
All—but that freedom of the mind,
Which hath been more than wealth to me;
Those friendships in my boyhood twined,[272]