I had and have a younger brother,
    One whom I loved and love to-day
  As never fond and doting mother
    Adored the babe who found its way
    From heavenly scenes into her day. 
  Oh, he was full of youth’s new wine,—­
    A man on life’s ascending slope,
    Flushed with ambition, full of hope;
  And every wish of his was mine.

  A kingly youth; the way before him
    Was thronged with victories to be won;
  So joyous, too, the heavens o’er him
    Were bright with an unchanging sun,—­
    His days with rhyme were overrun. 
  Toil had not taught him Nature’s prose,
    Tears had not dimmed his brilliant eyes,
    And sorrow had not made him wise;
  His life was in the budding rose.

  I know not how I came to waken,
    Some instinct pricked my soul to sight;
  My heart by some vague thrill was shaken,—­
    A thrill so true and yet so slight,
    I hardly deemed I read aright. 
  As when a sleeper, ign’rant why,
    Not knowing what mysterious hand
    Has called him out of slumberland,
  Starts up to find some danger nigh.

  Love is a guest that comes, unbidden,
    But, having come, asserts his right;
  He will not be repressed nor hidden. 
    And so my brother’s dawning plight
    Became uncovered to my sight. 
  Some sound-mote in his passing tone
    Caught in the meshes of my ear;
    Some little glance, a shade too dear,
  Betrayed the love he bore Ione.

  What could I do?  He was my brother,
    And young, and full of hope and trust;
  I could not, dared not try to smother
    His flame, and turn his heart to dust. 
    I knew how oft life gives a crust
  To starving men who cry for bread;
    But he was young, so few his days,
    He had not learned the great world’s ways,
  Nor Disappointment’s volumes read.

  However fair and rich the booty,
    I could not make his loss my gain. 
  For love is dear, but dearer duty,
    And here my way was clear and plain. 
  I saw how I could save him pain. 
  And so, with all my day grown dim,
    That this loved brother’s sun might shine,
    I joined his suit, gave over mine,
  And sought Ione, to plead for him.

  I found her in an eastern bower,
    Where all day long the am’rous sun
  Lay by to woo a timid flower. 
    This day his course was well-nigh run,
    But still with lingering art he spun
  Gold fancies on the shadowed wall. 
    The vines waved soft and green above,
    And there where one might tell his love,
  I told my griefs—­I told her all!

  I told her all, and as she hearkened,
    A tear-drop fell upon her dress. 
  With grief her flushing brow was darkened;
    One sob that she could not repress
    Betrayed the depths of her distress. 
  Upon her grief my sorrow fed,
    And I was bowed with unlived years,
    My heart swelled with a sea of tears,
  The tears my manhood could not shed.