Dedication to Malcolm Nicolson

I, who of lighter love wrote many a verse,

Made public never words inspired by thee,

Lest strangers' lips should carelessly rehearse

Things that were sacred and too dear to me.

Thy soul was noble; through these fifteen years

Mine eyes familiar, found no fleck nor flaw,

Stern to thyself, thy comrades' faults and fears

Proved generously thine only law.

Small joy was I to thee; before we met

Sorrow had left thee all too sad to save.

Useless my love--as vain as this regret

That pours my hopeless life across thy grave.