All precious things discovered late,         
  To those that seek them issue forth;
For love in sequel works with fate,
  And draws the veil from hidden worth.
He travels far from other skies,
  His mantle glitters on the rocks—         
A fairy prince, with joyful eyes,
  And lighter-footed than the fox.
 
The bodies and the bones of those
  That strove in other days to pass,
Are withered in the thorny close,         
  Or scattered blanching in the grass.
He gazes on the silent dead:
  “They perished in their daring deeds.”
This proverb flashes through his head:
  “The many fail; the one succeeds.”
         
He comes, scarce knowing what he seeks.
  He breaks the hedge; he enters there;
The color flies into his cheeks;
  He trusts to light on something fair;
For all his life the charm did talk         
  About his path, and hover near
With words of promise in his walk,
  And whispered voices in his ear.
 
More close and close his footsteps wind;
  The magic music in his heart        
Beats quick and quicker, till he find
  The quiet chamber far apart.
His spirit flutters like a lark,
  He stoops, to kiss her, on his knee:
‘Love, if thy tresses be so dark,       
  How dark those hidden eyes must be!’


 = Jack Knutson