The Bridge of Fire

Gentle Poet, only friend, Lover of the stars and sun, Since our days are at an end, Since the older days are done;

Since it seems that nevermore May I hope to trail my gown Rapturously, as before, With my friend in Oxford Town;

Since I so regret a time So unprofitably spent, Let me send a little rhyme From a king in banishment,—

Send a wish that we may see Better days, and braver days:— Floreas, amice mi! Floreat Praxiteles.