...Lo! as a little child
Looks from its window on a mighty town,
And sees the roofs as far as eye can reach,
But thinks not, knows not—nay, will not believe
That there are Fathers, Mothers, Sisters, Homes
All like his own, a thousand homely talks,
Manners, and customs—so I saw the world
With millions of my brethren. Then I wrote;
And all my verse sprang fire-new from a brain
That loved it and believed it. But the world
Coldly, in silence, passed my numbers by.
Therefore I sang in fury! When the years
Brought with them coolness, all too late I found
There were ten thousand, thousand thoughts like mine!