TO
JACK BEAZLEY
Poetae tenero, meo sodali
Gentle Poet, only friend,
Lover of the stars and sun,
Since our days are at an end,
Since the older days are done;
Since it seems that nevermore
May I hope to trail my gown
Rapturously, as before,
With my friend in Oxford Town;
Since I so regret a time
So unprofitably spent,
Let me send a little rhyme
From a king in banishment,—
Send a wish that we may see
Better days, and braver days:—
Floreas, amice mi!
Floreat Praxiteles.
