In College Days

Twelve years ago. And can hate work so long,
Through seasons of so many a star and flower,
So many a mountain day and ocean hour,
So many friends who gave me song for song?
Twelve years ago. Though life with splendors throng,
That youth of sallow skin and visage sour—
My first encounter with the evil power—
Is still the slanderer who did me wrong.

Yet my old hate is but the poet's hate
Even for the ideal villain of the mind—
The mind alert forever to create
Its perfect type from every form it find—
The man himself could enter at my gate
Like any stranger with his dog behind.
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