TO A. H. H.
[_]
(originally No. cviii.) [of In Memoriam]
(Unpublished)
Young is the grief I entertain,
And ever new the tale she tells,
And ever young the face that dwells
With reason cloister'd in the brain:
Yet grief deserves a nobler name,
She spurs an imitative will;
'Tis shame to fail so far, and still
My failing shall be less my shame.
Considering what mine eyes have seen,
And all the sweetness which thou wast,
And thy beginnings in the past,
And all the strength thou would'st have been:
A master mind with master minds,
An orb repulsive of all hate,
A will concentric with all fate,
A life four-square to all the winds.
