Page:Home; or, The unlost paradise (IA homeorunlostpara00palm).pdf/106

In cloistered halls he hides for toilsome years,
Youth's passion curbs, its restlessness subdues,
And e'en as if to Learning's self betrothed,
Life's busy throng forsakes with her to dwell.
Another to the marts of hurrying trade
His steps hath turned; eager to tread where sweep,
Now this way and now that, the surging tide
Of rivalries that chafe and ventures high;
Where men for gain in life-long wrestlings strive,
Now win, now lose, and oft, ere manhood's prime,
Its sturdy strength wear out and die too soon.
Thrice happy they whose hearts die not, nor lose
All sweet humanities, though years be long
And crowned with rich successes all unstained!
Turns fondly to his mother earth a third,
By some deep impulse urged; and far away
Toward sunset regions he hath wandered forth
To fix his dwelling where beyond the flood
Broad Iowa her billowy bosom spreads.
There, 'neath his hand, the virgin soil shall soon
Grow genial, opened to the mellowing sun;