"For seven years The Cup I strove to win,
But ever, when it seemed within my grip,
He, rising o'er all others, entered in,
And dashed it from my lip."
His words of grief fell idly on my ear,
As thunderdrops fall on a sleeping sea.
Sudden I heard a voice that cried—"Come here,
That you may look on me.
"I am ex-champion, now three years displaced,
And since that time I find it very slow;