LXIV
LATELY, agape beside the door of Fame,
Sudden a Touch upon my shoulder came,
And thro’ the Dusk an Angel Shape held out
The greater Guerdon; and it was—the Game!
LXV
THE Game that can with Logic absolute
The Dronings of the Soberheads confute,
Silence the scoffing ones, and in a trice
Life’s leaden metal into Gold transmute.