 | The lion's cub |  |
104
ON NEARING THE SECOND CATARACT.
When I was young—ah, distant when—And just began to hold my pen,
My head obeyed my tardy hand,
Submissive to its least command;
But now that I have older grown,
And more of other authors known,
I understand how Milton wrote
With younger fingers than his own
The Fall of Man—the tragic note
That struggled through Samson's rugged lines,
Blind, like himself, among the Philistines.
| The lion's cub | |