''Ob, our manhood's prime -vigor I No Spirit feels waste, 

 Not a muscle is slopped in its playing nor sinew unbraced. 

 Ob, the wild joys of living! the leaping from rock up to rock, 

 The strong rending of boughs from the fir-tree, the cool silver shock 

 Of the plunge in a pool's living water, the bunt of the bear, . . 

 And the sleep in the dried river-channel where bulrushes tell 

 That the water was wont to go warbling so softly and well. 

 How good is man's life, the mere living." 



BROWNING. 



