In Memoriam A.H.H.
envy not in any moods
The captive void of noble rage,
The linnet born within the cage,
never knew the summer woods:
envy not the beast that takes
His license in the field of time,
Unfetter’d by the sense of crime,
whom a conscience never wakes;
what may count itself as blest,
The heart that never plighted troth
But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;
any want-begotten rest.
hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
’Tis better to have loved and lost
never to have loved at all.
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