CXII.

And for these words, thus woven into song, It may be that they are a harmless wile,--[kw] The colouring of the scenes which fleet along,[kx] Which I would seize, in passing, to beguile My breast, or that of others, for a while. Fame is the thirst of youth,--but I am not[ky] So young as to regard men's frown or smile, As loss or guerdon of a glorious lot;-- I stood and stand alone,--remembered or forgot.