A Sonnet By Whittieb

[In memory of Richard S. Spoflurd.J Muite for he loved thee well, our Merrlraack. Ktom whvmhimI Nhor m low mul long lament Fur f i r tl wlume lust look h uhi Ihe-r, as lic went The DDknown way from whencc no tep s hHfk ml ye. O Hiicleiit pino freos, at wlin.se feot sm w, in Mie. t ti t1 mui mm' n redden i n glAW, Lei ïbe h ii tfODtb wind ittrwuh your needies bl'W. A fluim; ti 'jiiUMii tí'iid-Tly and uweet! N fomU-r luver n( uil in vel y t Iciikh SIihIi walk wheieoiK'e he waücud; nosmlle naiHV f;iml GrpPiH trti-inls thiin hï.s, who friends in all nif-n had ; Whosc pif;iaiiL memory to that Islpnd cll"gs VVhtTe ii dtar iiKuirner, ín the home he left, Of love's bweet eoiace cannot be bercit !