The Splendid Spur.

    Not on the neck of prince or hound,
    Nor on a woman's finger twin'd,
    May gold from the deriding ground
    Keep sacred that we sacred bind:
    Only the heel
    Of splendid steel
    Shall stand secure on sliding fate,
    When golden navies weep their freight.

    The scarlet hat, the laurell'd stave
    Are measures, not the springs, of worth;
    In a wife's lap, as in a grave,
    Man's airy notions mix with earth.
    Seek other spur
    Bravely to stir
    The dust in this loud world, and tread
    Alp-high among the whisp'ring dead.

    Trust in thyself,--then spur amain:
    So shall Charybdis wear a grace,
    Grim Aetna laugh, the Libyan plain
    Take roses to her shrivell'd face.
    This orb--this round
    Of sight and sound--
    Count it the lists that God hath built
    For haughty hearts to ride a-tilt.