Yet in our hearts our lanterns burned,
We two had seen each other's youth.

When filthy pain did wrap me round
Your upright ears I always saw,
And on my outflung hand I found
The blessing of your horny paw;

And yet--oh impotence of men--
My paw, more soft but not more wise,
Old friend, was lacking to you when
You looked your crisis in the eyes....

You shared my youth, oh faithful friend,
You let me share your puppyhood;
So, if I failed you in the end,
My friend, my friend, you understood.




SAINT BRIDE


About your brow a starry wreath,
About your feet a wilderness,
Where young hot hopes grow cold beneath
The tangled bondage of the press.
Set like a saint within a niche--
A strait and narrow niche--you hide,