I CAN wade grief
Whole pools of it,—
I ’m used to that
But the least push of joy
Breaks up my feet
And I tip—drunken
Let no pebble smile
’T was the new liquor,—
That was all!

Power is only pain
Stranded, through discipline
Till weights will hang
Give balm to giants
And they ’ll wilt, like men
Give Himmaleh,—
They ’ll carry him!