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Friends
| Now must I these three praise— | | Three women that have wrought | | What joy is in my days: | | One because
no thought, | | Nor those unpassing cares, | | No, not in these fifteen | | Many-times-troubled years, | | Could ever
come between | | Mind and delighted mind; | | And one because her hand | | Had strength that could unbind | | What none can understand, | | What none can have and thrive, | | Youth’s dreamy load, till she | | So changed
me that I live | | Labouring in ecstasy. | | And what of her that took | | All till my youth was gone | | With scarce a
pitying look? | | How could I praise that one? | | When day begins to break | | I count my good and bad, | | Being
wakeful for her sake, | | Remembering what she had, | | What eagle look still shows, | | While up from my heart’s
root | | So great a sweetness flows | | I shake from head to foot. |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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