Ii

"Too young am I, too tender, To bear earth's avalanche Of wrong, that grinds down life-hope, And makes my heart's-blood blanch.

"Tell him who soon shall follow Where my tired feet have bled, He must be older, shrewder, Hard, cold, and selfish-bred--

"Or else like me be trampled Under the harsh world's heel. 'Tis weakness to be youthful; 'Tis death to love and feel."