To J. S.
i.
More softly round the open wold,
And gently comes the world to those
That are cast in gentle mould.
ii.
Or else I had not dared to flow
In these words toward you, and invade
Even with a verse your holy woe.
iii.
Those in whose laps our limbs are nursed,
Fall into shadow, soonest lost:
Those we love first are taken first.