IDEALS MADE REAL.
I.
It seem’d a rare and royal friendship, ours,
The very sovereignty of sympathy;
Begun so early too—mere lads we were—
And now I never look back there again
But, swept like shading from a hero’s face
In pictures,—those of Rembrandt,—all the school
Appear in hues of dim uncertainty
Surrounding Elbert, shining in relief.