To make your own the soul I wear
And mould it purer into prayer.

And since your love first lit the way
I find that I have learned to pray;
For, that my soul may benefit,
I pray that you may pray for it.


_A BALLAD OF FRIENDSHIP_

_for two most dear Children_

Soured and dimmed and chilled with senility
Hobbled the year to its uttermost day;
I gave the best of a slender ability,
Seeking to make a short afternoon gay.
You were both claimed ere the sky was grey
Over the tips of the western towers;
Yet, as you went, you had time to say,
"This is no stranger: we name him ours!"

Slaves and serfs have woes in abundancy--
Clashing of manacle, whistling of thong,
Tales of terror and tears to redundancy;
What is the score of my slavery's wrong?
Surely where pleasures so freely throng
Some sad fiend of unhappiness lowers;
Or is the refrain of Good Fortune's song,
"This is no stranger: we name him ours"?