Sighed a student in the motley crowd—
"I heard her whisper that aside:
O fatal fairness, aping heaven
When earthly most!—I'll not deride—
God knows that were all good gifts given
To me as lavishly as rain,
I'd bring them to her feet again."
"Here are the fools we use for tools;
Bending their passion, ere it cools,
To any need," the cynic said: