To Thos. Floyd

How fares it, friend, since I by Fate annoy'd Left the old home in need of livelier play For body and mind? How fare, this many a day, The stubborn thews and ageless heart of Floyd? If not too well with country sport employ'd, Visit my flock, the breezy hill that they Choose for their fold; and see, for thence you may, From rising walls all roofless yet and void,

The lovely city, thronging tower and spire, The mind of the wide landscape, dreaming deep, Grey-silvery in the vale; a shrine where keep Memorial hopes their pale celestial fire: Like man's immortal conscience of desire, The spirit that watcheth in me ev'n in my sleep.

1906.

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