Perhaps his feet might choose in their new pride
A tread whose echoes ring more evenly —
But Life, a friendly hound, runs at his side
And will not let him be.

His spirits answer in good comradeship,
Yet he must have a care to face the street
Erect, lest this strange dignity should slip
Like sandals from his feet.

And in this awkward grace of his new gait,
His show of artlessness, becoming wise,
The past and future gravely arbitrate,
And gaily compromise.

So on he goes with sure, uncertain stride,
Holding with valiant grip his dignity —
But Life, a friendly hound, runs at his side
And will not let him be.