Rarely was the laugh upon his cheek, except in bitter scorn
For his foolishness of heart, and the lie of its romance, counting Love a treasure.
His talk is of stern Reality, chilling unimaginative facts,
The dull material accidents of this sensual body;
Lucreless honour were contemptible, impoverished affection but a pauper's riches,
Duty, struggling unrewarded, the bargain of a cheated fool:
The market value of a fancy must be measured by the gain it bringeth,
No man is fed or clothed by fame, or love, or duty:—
So toiled he day by day, that cold and joyless man,
I gazed upon his haggard face, and sorrowed for the change: