The small sweet pride that would not be outdone
In such a race, by brothers big and stout!
“Annette the first shall see the Kings, no doubt”—
It was our grandsire spake with twinkling eye.
“Yes, yes; she shall,” impatient to be out,
We answered. Once beneath the deepening sky,
We ever took the sunset way—as late birds thither fly!
For thus we reasoned with one grave consent:
If yonder star above our mountain’s crest
Should be that Eastern star for guidance lent,