TOIL.

TOIL.
GRACE G. BOSTWICK.
421.2

He sought for peace; he drifted here and there
In many lands, and alien tongues he spoke;
In vain upon his knees within a cell,
The monastery’s calm he did invoke.

And then at last when Time had filched his youth
And stricken with gaunt poverty, he braved
Toil’s hardship, lo! in its rude strength he found
The peace that for so many years he’d craved.