28.10.2007, 15:49
DEDICATION TO FESTUS.
MY Father ! unto thee to whom I owe
All that I am, all that I have and can ;
Who madest me in thyself the sum of man
In all its generous aims and powers to know,
These first-fruits bring I ; nor do thou forego
Marking when I the boyish feat began,
Which numbers now near three years from its plan,
Not twenty summers had imbrowned my brow.
Life is at blood-heat every page doth prove.
Bear with it. Nature means Necessity.
If here be aught which thou canst love, it springs
Out of the hope that I may earn that love
More unto me than immortality ;
Or to have strung my harp with golden strings.
MY Father ! unto thee to whom I owe
All that I am, all that I have and can ;
Who madest me in thyself the sum of man
In all its generous aims and powers to know,
These first-fruits bring I ; nor do thou forego
Marking when I the boyish feat began,
Which numbers now near three years from its plan,
Not twenty summers had imbrowned my brow.
Life is at blood-heat every page doth prove.
Bear with it. Nature means Necessity.
If here be aught which thou canst love, it springs
Out of the hope that I may earn that love
More unto me than immortality ;
Or to have strung my harp with golden strings.