...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!