My Son + 

Stronger than man-made bars, the chain, + 

That rounds your life’s arena, + 

Deeper than hell the anchor sweeps + 

That stills your young desires; + 

Darker than night the inward look + 

That meditation offers, + 

Redder than blood the future years + 

Roll down the hills of torture! + 

But ah! you were not made for this, + 

And life is but preluding⁠— + 

The major theme shall hold its sway + 

When full awake, not dreaming, + 

Your ebon foot shall press the sod + 

Where immortelles are blooming; + 

Beyond the glaze of fevered years + 

I see⁠—the day is coming! + 