Air of defiance to fate visibly
Casting the toils about him—mouths once more
'Hail, calm acclivity, salubrious spot!'
Then clasps-to cover, sends book spinning off
T' other side table, looks up, starts erect
Full-face with her who—roused from that abstruse
Question 'Will next tick tip the fern or no?'—
Fronts him as fully.
All her languor breaks,
Away withers at once the weariness