HORACE HOLLEY ex-'10

All verse, all music; artistry
Of cunning hand and feeling heart,
All loveliness, whate'er it be,
Is but the hint and broken part

Of that vast beauty and delight
Which man shall know when he is free;
When in his soul the alien night
Folds up like darkness from the sea.

For e'en in song man still reveals
His ancient fear, a mournful knell;
Like one who dreams of home, but feels
The bonds of an old prison cell.

Literary Monthly, 1909.