or less a matter of guesswork, although the central-station

Of family worth and proud integrity.

And many a sturdy grandchild hears his name

In reverence spoken, till he feels akin

To all the lion-eyed who built the world --

And lion-dreams begin to burn within.

O you who lose the art of hope,

Whose temples seem to shrine a lie,

Whose sidewalks are but stones of fear,