HIGH AND LOW He stumbled home from Clifden fair With drunken song, and cheeks aglow. Yet there was something in his air That told of kingship long ago. I sighed -- and inly cried With grief that one so high should fall so low. He snatched a flower and sniffed its scent, And waved it toward the sunset sky. Some old sweet rapture through him went And kindled in his bloodshot eye. I turned -- and inly burned With joy that one so low should rise so high. -- James H. Cousins (born 1873)