The dear self-pitying heart “I’ll babble now
No longer,” Dymer said. “I’m broken in.
Pack up the dreams and let the life begin.”
3
With this he turned. “I must have food to-day,”
He muttered. Then among the cloudless hills
By winding tracks he sought the downward way
And followed the steep course of tumbling rills
—Came to the glens the wakening mountain fills
In springtime with the echoing splash and shock