So we remote compatriots reply,
And feel the world-task only half begun:
"We are the girders of the ageing earth,
Whose veins are million, but whose heart is one."
BEETHOVEN
HE wandered down, an Orpheus wilder-souled,
From some melodious world of love and song,
And through our earthly vales strange music rolled.
Who heard that alien note could only long,