(He that searches, with tireless eyes
In a turret-chamber under the skies)
Passion and joy, and sorrow and laughter,
Life and death, and the things thereafter.
[pg 26]
To an Elzevir Cicero
Dust-covered book, that very few men know,
Even as very few men understand
The glory of an ancient, storied land
In the wild current of the ages’ flow,