Sinopsis

I am like, They tell me, my dear father. Broader brows Howbeit, upon a slenderer undergrowth Of delicate features, -- paler, near as grave ; But then my mother's smile breaks up the whole, And makes it better sometimes than itself. So, nine full years, our days were hid with God Among his mountains : I was just thirteen, Still growing like the plants from unseen roots In tongue-tied Springs, -- and suddenly awoke To full life and life 's needs and agonies,