Straight deathward, trails his luckless driver on,
Whirl’d powerless to prevent all as a babe.”
I spake of Haydn’s love.
They bade me think
“How often love that loses earthly friends,
Comes back from all things outward toward itself;
And finding self, finds heaven’s design within?
Did not I know that loss and gain are both
Sent here to aid the worth of inner traits
And change the phases of the spirit’s growth?—