THE OLD CHIMERAS A hundred such as these I tried. And hundreds after that, I fitted Social Theories As one would fit a hat! Full many a marsh-fire lured rne on, I reached at many a star, I reached and grasped them and behold- The stump of a cigar ! All through the sultry sweltering day The sweat ran down my brow, The still plains heard my distant strokes That have been silenced now. This way and that, now up, now down, I hailed full many a blow* Alas! beneath my weary arm The thicket seemed to grow. I take the lesson, wipe my brow And throw my axe aside, And, sorely wearied, I go home In the tranquil eventide. And soon the rising moon, that lights The eve of my defeat, Shall see me sitting as of yore By my old master's feet.