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 rehearseThings that were sacred and too dear to me.

Thy soul was noble; through these fifteen yearsMine eyes familiar, found no fleck nor flaw,Stern to thyself, thy comrades' faults and fearsProved generosity thine only law.

Small joy was I to thee; before we metSorrow had left thee all too sad to save.Useless my love—as vain as this regretThat pours my hopeless life across thy grave.