TO J. W. E.
Ah yes! you have suffered, for that is the measure,
Meted out to each luckless descendant of Eve,
But have you not also known exquisite pleasure
Such as no grubbing worldling could ever achieve?
Believe me your life is not useless or wasted,
Seen in proper perspective you've nothing to rue;
How few of life's nectar so deeply have tasted,
How few own a spirit so tender and true!
In yourself you've a spring of delight ever-flowing;
Ever youthful in heart and in mind you remain;
In your spirit so fervent there burns ever-glowing
That love for the lovely which never can wane.
Leave 'success' to the sordid and 'slim' money-spinner,
His wealth is the price of the sale of his soul;
If your gifts you weigh justly 'tis you are the winner,
And he is the loser with whom to condole.
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