My person out of many people grew,
steeped hot in many climes of human thought;
of their best parts, as Pallas born anew,
fresh from their forge, my better self was wrought.
In caution's clasp my fancies were arrest,
lost but for verse's sweet escape from flesh,
'til their many characteristics blest
enraptured verse which with their strength enmeshed.
What lies inside the secret hearts of men,
which little keys the light of day doth bring!
How harsh the burn, how fierce the field! But then,
how sweet the day, and too, how right the sting.
Parades of youth to tides of time are lost,
but change's mark is on my soul embossed.
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