But Tell Me, Child, Your Choice; What Shall I Buy You?' - 'Father, What You Buy Me I Like Best.' With The Sweetest Air That Said, Still Plied And Pressed, He Swung To His First Poised Purport Of Reply. What The Heart Is! Which, Like Carriers Let Fly - Doff Darkness, Homing Nature Knows The Rest - To Its Own Fine Function, Wild And Self-Instressed, Falls Light As Ten Years Long Taught How To And Why. Mannerly-Hearted! More Than Handsome Face - Beauty'S Bearing Or Muse Of Mounting Vein, All, In This Case, Bathed In High Hallowing Grace . . . Of Heaven What Boon To Buy You, Boy, Or Gain Not Granted? - Only ... O On That Path You Pace Run All Your Race, O Brace Sterner That Strain!