And he had learned to love,—I know not why,

For this in such as him seems strange of mood,

The helpless looks of blooming Infancy,

Even in its earliest nurture; what subdued,

To change like this, a mind so far imbued

With scorn of man, it little boots to know;

But thus it was; and though in solitude

Small power the nipped affections have to grow,

In him this glowed when all beside had ceased to glow.