As one of some fat tillage dispossessed
Alan Seeger
1888 to 1916
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As one of some fat tillage dispossessed,
Weighing the of these four faded years,
If any ask what seems loveliest,
What lasting gold among the garnered ears, —
Ah, then I'll say what hours I had of thine,
Therein I reaped Time's richest revenue,
Read in thy the sense of David's line,
Through thee achieved the that Shakespeare knew.
Take then his book, laden with own love
As flowers made sweeter by deep-drunken rain,
when years sunder and between us move
Wide waters, less kindly bonds constrain,
Thou may'st turn here, dear boy, and reading see
Some part of what thy friend felt for thee.