(Died April 23, 1915)

To-day I have talked with old Euripides; Shakespeare this morning sang for my content Of chimney-sweepers; through the Carian trees Comes beating still the nightingales’ lament; The Tabard ales to-day are freshly brewed; Wordsworth is with me, mounting Loughrigg Fell; All timeless deaths in Lycid are renewed, And basils blossom yet for Isabel.

Quick thoughts are these; they do not pass; they gave Only to death such little, casual things As are the noteless levies of the grave,-- Sad flesh, weak verse, and idle marketings. So my mortality for yours complains, While our immortal fellowship remains.