Dedication to Malcolm Nicolson

I, who of lighter love wrote many a verse, 
Made public never words inspired by thee, 
Lest strangers' lips should carelessly rehearse 
Things that were sacred and too dear to me. 

Thy soul was noble; through these fifteen years 
Mine eyes familiar, found no fleck nor flaw, 
Stern to thyself, thy comrades' faults and fears 
Proved generosity thine only law. 

Small joy was I to thee; before we met 
Sorrow had left thee all too sad to save. 
Useless my love----as vain as this regret 
That pours my hopeless life across thy grave. 
L. H.

Last Poems, 1905.